


Five's Big Day

by HarveyDangerfield, Venn



Series: Five Needs Some Love [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: (but not really underage they're all adults), Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Asphyxiation, Blow Jobs, Bottom Number Five | The Boy, Coming In Pants, Consensual Underage Sex, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub Play, Dom/sub Undertones, Edging, F/M, Frottage, Grinding, Lingerie, M/M, Making Love, Making Out, Number Five | The Boy-centric, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamory Negotiations, Post-Canon Fix-It, Pseudo-Incest, Rimming, Rough Sex, Sibling Incest, Subspace, Top Number Five | The Boy, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:01:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 58,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26238286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarveyDangerfield/pseuds/HarveyDangerfield, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venn/pseuds/Venn
Summary: After the second apocalypse is averted, the Hargreeves make it home safe at last, and are given the chance to rest. Things are a little tense, to say the least.Five's siblings decide they want to show him a little affection, and thank him for a job well done.
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy/Allison Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy/Diego Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy/Klaus Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy/Luther Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy/Vanya Hargreeves
Series: Five Needs Some Love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1905880
Comments: 49
Kudos: 346





	1. Luther

**Author's Note:**

> ok ya'll listen up 👏 a bitch will not hesitate to delete stupid ass comments about ~problematic content~ 
> 
> for all those with critical thinking skills, welcome to this ridiculously long pornfest. i hope you enjoy your stay, have some refreshments. this is a post-second season fix it fic where they make it home fine and nothing bad happens to the timeline, everything's fine because Five needs a BREAK god damn it
> 
> IN THIS HOUSE WE LOVE AND RESPECT FIVE HARGREEVES AS THE ADULT MAN HE IS

Even though it's been four days since they returned to their own timeline, it really hasn't quite sunk in yet that they're finally _safe_. There's no incoming threat, no massive looming apocalypse, no world-shaking event on the horizon... the world is safe, and everything is normal. And normal is... pretty hard to adjust to, for the six remaining academy members, after everything. Normal feels almost worse than anything else. 

Normal means getting a job again, living a life again. Normal means not having a very clear view of the future. Nothing to save, nothing to conquer, no goals in mind. Everything that happens now is going to happen because they decide to make it happen, and that's more daunting than most of them really took the time to think about. 

Luther, in particular, finds himself struggling. After so many years of blind, indifferent obedience to his father followed by a harrowing few months of blind, indifferent obedience to Mr. Ruby, to suddenly have nobody left for Luther to pledge his deference to makes him feel hollow. Like the rug has been pulled out from under his feet, and he still hasn't gotten his footing back. He's been listless and the kind of exhausted that feels too tired to sleep. He hasn't even been shaving, which might mean a light stubble for most men, but for him he's halfway to a full beard already.

Allison reminded him just this morning to take things one day at a time, but he privately thinks that's easier for her to say. She has a daughter she'd flown home to see just a couple days ago. Even that seems like a logical decision to make, a reasonable idea for what she would do next. It's more of a plan for the future than _he_ has. 

Wandering through the house just killing time until he's supposed to go pick Allison up from the airport and bring her home again, he passes through the living room and finds Five passed out on the couch. It's not an unusual sight, the poor man has been so tired these last few days, after two back-to-back apocalypses, that the whole family has found him collapsed in a heap at one end of the house or the other, still in the same bloody uniform. Like he's been too afraid to even take his shoes off, in case of another emergency. He needs to be ready to _go._

Luther can relate to that kind of hypervigilance in a way not all of them can-- and honestly, Five's had it worse than all of them. He feels a pang of guilt in his chest for even thinking about _complaining_ about how he doesn't have someone to feel subservient to, when he's had the luxury of being around people for almost his entire life, the only exception being while on the moon. But even then, that was for someone. Five had no one, for decades. His chest aches, and he pulls a quilt off the back of the couch to unfold it, laying it gently over Five's sleeping form. 

It's a mistake, but most best-intentioned things are. It wasn't a heavy blanket, nor was Luther particularly rough with the way he draped it over the young Five's body, but as soon as the thick, heavy wool settled over his shoulders, he was gone. Without so much as the familiar hum of his teleportation ability, Five appears behind the couch, crouched in a defensive posture as if he was genuinely anticipating a fight as soon as he woke up. It's a habit, borne of necessity in the wastes, not necessarily derived from home, although they were certainly raised to hop out of bed at a moment's notice.

Still, Five's shoulders sag as he takes in the shocked face of his much larger sibling, the dumbfounded way he was looking from the blanket still partially in his hands to the now-empty couch. His hands drop, his feet slide together, and Five's face smooths from a growl into a look of tired bemusement. 

"Tucking me in, Luther? How sweet of you." Even from a dead sleep, Five was able to make his voice bitingly dry, his posture easy, his aura calm, as if he hadn't just woke up in a threat state, ready to pounce on whatever sorry motherfucker had tried him that day. He rounds the couch, taking another seat on the sofa and ignoring the blanket as he sits directly on it, tilting his head back, "Did you need something?" He asks without sparing the man a glance, eyes slipping shut.

"Uh-- no," Luther clears his throat. "I just didn't want you to be cold while you slept. I don't have anything else to do, I'm just waiting until noon so I can go pick up Allison from the airport."

He stands, awkwardly, across from his... sibling. He actually isn't sure whether to think of him as older or younger, and the thought makes his stomach twist strangely. He shifts his weight from foot to foot and clears his throat again. He hasn't actually had a moment alone with Five since they got back-- in fact, Five has been pretty reclusive from all of them. Constantly either prowling the house as if in search of danger, or dead ass asleep curled up under a table somewhere. Sighing, he sits down on the couch beside his brother, the cushions groaning and sinking low enough that Five nearly topples over sideways into him. 

"Look," he starts, reaching up to scrub a big hand over his short hair. "I uh-- I haven't gotten a chance yet to apologize for everything. For almost leaving you to deal with the second apocalypse yourself, for almost turning on you when... you-- other you got in my head. The last few days have been _really_ weird."

It's an understatement of the century, laughable in its complete misrepresentation. 'Really weird' didn't even begin to describe what the last few days were-- What the last lifetime was-- and the phrasing makes him smile, even if it is that same bitter, sardonic smile he'd donned all too often through childhood. Old habits die hard, Five was no exception to that rule, at least. 

"Haven't noticed," He says mildly. Now, though, his head does lift from the back of the couch, fixing Luther with a vaguely curious expression, one eyebrow raised. The intention isn't lost on him, after all. He's not completely callous, despite what some members of his family might think of him, and Luther has always been somewhat of a soft spot for him. They all were, not that he would dare even _think_ such a sentiment too loudly, in case Vanya develops a penchant for reading minds, on top of everything else.

Scrutiny done, he leans his head back against the couch once more, ignoring the way half of his body dips into the cave made by Luther's substantial weight. Five spares him the anguish of his entire dismissal, though, his eyes opening as he stares at the ceiling, "Don't worry about it. It's a lot to take in. And I'm not exactly easy to argue against. I'm sure he was very convincing when he was trying to get you to kill me, I'm just glad you didn't go through with it, or who knows where we'd be now."

"A lot worse off, that's for sure," Luther says softly, and without hesitation. The earnest way he says it is almost heartbreaking. He relaxes back against the sofa, and looks up at the ceiling, mirroring his brother's stance. "All of us would be so much worse off if you hadn't come back, Five. We never would have known what was coming. And I was too wrapped up in my own crap to even pay attention to what you were saying. If we'd had it my way, the world would have been destroyed twice over. Honestly... I think you should be number one. Turns out I'm more of a follower than a leader-- and not even a very good follower, at that. But I should've followed you."

"You know, I used to sit for hours and wonder why he made you Number One. Because you were the biggest, maybe? The strongest physically, or the smartest..." Five sighs, shrugging minutely as he turns his head to look at Luther, his expression serious even in the face of his brother's anguish, "Turns out, they never mattered. None of it ever did," Sitting up again, Five tilts his head at Luther, curiously, "Leadership is never about who's the best at something, or even having answers all of the time. It's about being the one who shows up. Out of all of us, Luther, you showed up, even at your detriment." He laughs, but it's not quite a laugh-- more like a halfassed snort of air.

"I only showed up because I had it whipped into me so hard that I never even thought to question," Luther admits, catching his brother's eye. " _You_ showed up because you love us. You had the choice to leave us all to die, and you chose to come back for us anyway. Twice, even when I didn't. You did everything for us, gave everything for us, and we didn't even listen to you. I wish I could say something more meaningful than thank you, but... I've never been very good at the rousing speech part of leadership."

Something in Five's face twitches, and Luther watches as his mouth quivers into a frown, then flattens, only for the twitching to move to his eyebrow, instead. The longer the conversation went, the hotter that knot in his stomach gets, inching its way up from his guts, further and further into his throat, like he was anticipating saying something very hard. But he doesn't, not yet. Instead, he just shrugs, looking down at his lap as he fights the nauseous feeling creeping deeper into his throat and beginning to overwhelm him. Five laughs, and his voice breaks as he continued, "I needed you to stop the apocalypse. It needed all of us there, or it wouldn't've worked," He says, still bravely trying to have a conversation, even if his everyday words are plagued with with sadness, coming from somewhere deep in his chest.

Luther catches on easily to the quaver in Five's expression and voice. In a lot of ways, Five reminds him of himself, in terms of how very little growing up either of them had to do. He'd lived at the academy his whole life, waiting patiently to be told what to do. Like Diego had said, he'd never had to hold down a job or pay bills. In many ways, he'd never had to grow up, he was the only one who maintained the childish fantasy of being a super hero, complete with a costume and missions to accomplish. 

And similarly, though Five had to learn survival skills that none of the rest of them could even dream of, he'd stopped growing up at fourteen, when he first disappeared. It was at that point that he didn't have any reason or even ability to mature emotionally, as he'd had no people around him to help him do so. In many respects, both of them are still the children they used to be. Frightened, desperate to succeed, desperate to be validated by a man who never, ever would. 

But Luther isn't their father. He doesn't walk away when he sees one of his family members experiencing a human emotion, unlike the man who raised them. Instead he turns sideways to face his brother, and opens his arms. 

"You want a hug?" he asks, his voice soft and earnest.

Such a simple request was not meant to hit him so hard, surely. Five's head snaps up at the question, and his eyes narrow as he looks over at Luther, staring for just a moment longer than was probably normally required to process such an offer. _Did_ he want a hug?

Well, did he? Five can feel his heartbeat through his sternum, is consciously aware of how hard he was breathing, how fast and shallow. It's worse now at the offer of affection, so freely and willingly given. Physical touch was not something encouraged or even allowed in the Hargreeves household, a family built on a common denominator of torment and very little else; But children were known to break the rules, and physical touch was not immune to this. 

For Five, however, it had been a lifetime. "Soft as ever, I see," He says, the distrust and apprehension plain in his eyes. What was there to be afraid of? A miasma of memories makes him feel sick. Lonely nights curled up alone, cold winters spent half-alive and wishing he had someone, something to hold, to emanate and return the warmth he gave away for free. He had Dolores, but she was...

The silence between them is broken again by Five, who swallows around the heavy knot blocking his breath, "Yeah, fine." A final acquiescence, solidified by him sitting up and scooting closer, into that broad, warm circle of his brother's arms. He'd always been smaller than Luther, was always destined to be, but what was a 5 inch difference was now almost 10 times that. For a second as he approaches, Five opens his arms to return the awkward hug, but after a second he rolls his eyes, pulling a grimacing sneer as he lifts himself up fully and deposits himself in Luther's lap, leaning his shoulder into the larger man's chest, "This is easier," He says, before the other man can so much as react one way or the other, "Other way we would have just been awkwardly patting each other on the shoulder."

Luther doesn't really mind, though it does conjure old memories back to the surface, memories he'd tried for the most part to bury. Allison hadn't been the only one he'd held a candle for-- in fact, he's pretty sure there wasn't a single pair of Hargreeves siblings who _hadn't_ fooled around in some capacity. It's not like they were getting much affection anywhere else. Their father wouldn't understand affection if it flipped him upside down and spanked him, and their mother was often actively thwarted by their father whenever she tried to give them any sort of positive attention or love. 

And so they found it in each other. Aggressively, and with abandon. It was ironic that he and Allison, the only pair of twins who _hadn't_ actually done anything truly salacious, were the ones who were caught and punished for their insolence. 

"I gotcha," he murmurs, closing his arms around Five, and tucking his nose against his hair. He feels so unbelievably small in his embrace, and while Luther isn't a stranger to people feeling small to him, Five feels extra small. He feels like a little bird shivering in his arms, like Luther could snap him in half if he squeezed too hard. 

It's one thing to sit in a warm lap, but another to be embraced by that lap. That nausea in Five's chest blooms, and for the first few moments in that hug, he practically gags from the weight of it. Touch. Real, physical touch, longstanding and without urgency, without the chorus of war as a backdrop or the scream of innocents in his ear, "Actually, I.." He's cut off by Luther's arms tightening, silently, without comment but also leaving no room for argument. 

Five is rendered speechless. His body aches with the sudden blow he's dealt, the gaping hole in his chest where his siblings had been, opened anew. He'd never made peace with their deaths. In fact, everything he had done to this point was a direct result of that stubbornly-held grudge-- But it was one thing to find his way home, and another to live in it. This, living in it, being embraced by it, opened new wounds Five hadn't even been aware he'd let close. 

His breathing is faster, now, the sick feeling in his chest catching up to him. It crawls up his throat and makes his eyes burn, and before long Five is panting, half-wheezing into the worn tweed of Luther's jacket. Hands finally find Luther's, but they're desperate, sharp, Five's nails digging into the heavy cotton of his gloves as he holds onto Luther, half-sobbing, half-gasping his way through a panic attack he never could have anticipated feeling.

Luther holds him, firmly and without comment. He closes his eyes, his nose buried in his dark hair that somehow still smells the same, a memory Luther didn't even remember holding onto. It feels disrespectful even to look at him, so he keeps his eyes shut as he cradles him in his arms like a precious treasure. 

He can't think of a thing to say that would make Five feel better. He already knows Luther's sorry. He already knows Luther loves him. He knows so much more than Luther ever could, there's nothing new his big little brother could add to his mind, and so he adds to his body instead, squeezing gently, encouraging the unshed tears and the gasping and the trembles. This, he knows, is a healing cry. 

"I'm right here," he murmurs instead, his voice a rumbling whisper of affection that could be felt even without words to carry it.

Every instinct tells him to move, tells him to say something, to go somewhere, to do anything other than sit here and reel in emotions he couldn't name. Was it loss? Victory? Regret, sorrow, fear, anger-- was it love? Was it the built up dam of emotions he'd harbored for 45 years, spilling at the first sign of real, genuine human contact? 

Five hyperventilates for a while longer. Luther murmurs words of gentle reassurance in his ear, his voice low and warm, warmer maybe than even his body beneath him. He'd always had a voice like that. Like honey, smooth and sweet. It makes his fingers itch, his toes curl. He shrinks into it, clenching his jaw and swallowing around that final knot, the one he knows is stemming the tide of tears just behind his eyes. That, he wouldn't do. Couldn't do. 

"Do you remember my last day here?" Five asks, when he thinks his voice can be trusted with the task. It can't be-- it cracks twice in even such a short sentence-- but still, he goes on. Not looking at Luther, staring at the unlit fireplace without seeing it, Five repeats for no other reason than he needs to. "Do you?" His words are sharper than they need to be, but that, at least, was par for the course.

Of course Luther remembers. He remembers being woken up by a body landing on him at six in the morning, just an hour before breakfast, as Five rushed to jump on him from where he'd locked Luther's bedroom door. He'd launched himself halfway across the room in his excitement to inform his brother that he'd just arrived in his bedroom from 3AM earlier that very same morning, triumphantly declaring his mastery of time jumping. 

Luther had been as skeptical then as he was later in that same day, before Five ran from the dining table and vanished for decades, but it was impossible not to be caught up in Five's excited glee. To have been the one Five told first about what he'd accomplished made him feel special, and he couldn't hope to talk him down. He didn't even want to-- he might have, if his father had been there, just to put up a front for the man. But it was good his father wasn't there because Five had collapsed on top of him then, mouth to mouth, and they'd quietly rutted one another into the pillows to burn off some of the energy his brother had been left with from the high of his accomplishment before breakfast. 

"I remember," Luther says, unsure if _that's_ what Five is referencing, or just the excitement he'd felt that morning. He can't bear to assume and be wrong. 

"If I'd have known that was the last time I'd get to touch someone _real_ , I think I would have demanded a little more than dry humping," Five says, a catlike smile curling on his lips, even as his body continues to tremble and quiver in Luther's lap, the endorphin rush of emotions completely overwhelming his little frame. He can't seem to get it out. Maybe crying would have done the trick, but the vice-like grip he had on his tears was making that an impossible feat. So he shook, instead.

Looking up at Luther, finally, for the first time since he climbed into his massive lap, Five's lips twitch. He doesn't wear a self-deprecating smile very often, but Luther knows it when he sees it, can see the bitter bite of sorrow behind his eyes. He can feel the white-knuckled grip Five is holding himself together by, and just as soon as Five looks at him, he's gone again, too pained to continue it. 

He laughs, instead, looking down and away, curling tighter into himself, clutching tighter onto his brother, "Can you imagine?" He asks, laughing still without any humor, "I think back then you were still too polite to even use tongue without a little push."

Luther feels his ears heat up as guilt hits him in the chest. Guilt of remembering how much pleasure and comfort he'd taken in the embrace of his siblings, guilt he'd learned later in life from people who would remark on the hideousness of the exact kinds of relationship that kept Luther and his family sane. It wasn't as though they were raised with traditional family values, he'd always considered his siblings to be more like classmates or roommates in everything but name-- but nevertheless, the shame had managed to make a nest in his heart ever since leaving all that behind. He wonders whether the same is true for Five. 

"To be honest, I-- I'm not much better now," Luther admits with a breathy laugh. He should probably remove Five from his lap now. He should push him off. Selfishly, he doesn't. "You and-- and the others, you were my only... I mean, I've never dated anyone. I've never even been in a relationship, you guys were all I had. My experience began and ended with you. Mostly you and Diego..." he clears his throat, the flush spreading from his ears to his cheeks. "Good thing we uh... grew out of that. We were dumb kids."

"You grew out of it?" Five asks sharply, turning to look at him.

It made sense in the arbitrary, Five realizes. Society was hardly able to accept a crew of superpowered children, there was no way they'd be able to accept those same children as lovers, or even the occasional purveyor of stress relief for one another. There would be riots in the streets, calls for their heads: At the very least, abject disbarment from whatever societal rung they had managed to claw themselves to the top of. 

Yet, for all the self assurance Five had to their mutual destruction, he couldn't help but linger on Luther, now. How many times before had he sat in this very same lap, these very same arms around him? How many times had he grabbed his jacket, pulled him close? How long ago was it that Five had every last scar on his skin memorized? (How many new ones had risen since he'd left?) 

Five finds himself locked in gaze with Luther, transfixed in his thoughts, in the what if's and maybe's. "Huh," he says, without looking away.

Maybe that's exactly what Luther had been hoping to hear. Maybe the sort of _permission_ Five had just given him, as an older, wiser man was enough. Luther might have convinced himself he did it on purpose, if he didn't know for a fact that he wasn't smart enough to plan and coerce like that. Nevertheless, Five's reaction tells him everything he needs to know about whether the other man had "grown out of it" himself. 

Really, he shouldn't be surprised. For a man who was in a committed relationship with one fourth of a department store mannequin, fucking his brother would probably be a massive step up insofar as sensation and participation are concerned. 

He doesn't give himself time to think about it. With Five's brilliant eyes locked on him, Luther ducks his head and connects his mouth to the older man's, breathing out through his nose like a bull in satisfaction just at the way it _feels_ to kiss someone again. 

Five hates himself when he actually hears a whimper leave him, one that swiftly turns into a growl as the coarse scruff of Luther's beard drags against his jaw, miraculously free of even so much as a sheen of stubble. It had been decades since he'd had such a clean face, and he could feel every untended hair of Luther's scratching against him as their lips joined. 

Out of sentimentality-- or maybe habit-- Five's hands raise to cradle Luther's jaw. His hands are smaller now, but they comb through his scruff just as easily, frame his face just as well. His thumbs raise to smooth across Luther's jaw, and Five pours himself into the kiss. For once he allows himself to give in, if only because the fire now burning in his stomach was so much easier to understand the sorrow gripping his heart. He can understand lust. He can understand desire. 

Five devours Luther's mouth like a man starving, leaning forward to curl up and arch high against those hands, teeth clicking as he presses his tongue into his mouth to taste him, growling again at the somehow familiar flavor as he seeks to claim it, to imprint it onto his mind and add it to the eons-untouched Lexicon of Luther.

Luther groans in his throat when he feels Five's tongue enter his mouth, and his giant hands curl around the older man's hips, lifting and rotating him in his lap to properly straddle him. He falls back on the cushions, the back of his neck catching the arm of the sofa, taking Five with him and draping him over his chest like a towel. He doesn't want to patronize his brother, so he would never express it aloud, but he can hardly stand how _small_ Five feels on top of him. He feels like he could shatter to pieces if Luther wasn't careful, but he knows better than to underestimate his brother, who had survived the apocalypse for years and years, some amount of time of which was spent when he was this small. 

The kiss breaks when Luther's body starts to feel too warm, and he knows Five must be, too. He quickly peels the older man's jacket off of him and tosses it to the ground, and then yanks off his own gloves and untucks Five's shirt so he can circle his bare hands around his waist, and truly measure how small he is. It's not exactly a good metric, his hands are monstrously proportioned compared to the average man, but it sends a guilty thrill through him that he can touch his fingertips together at the small of Five's back, and nearly lock his thumbs at the front. 

The weight of those hands leans heavy on Five's hips, grounding him to the spot, securing him spread across Luther's hips. His knees are barely able to find the leather cushions beneath them, but Five finds he surprisingly doesn't mind the discrepancy between them; a height difference was nothing new, only the exaggerated nature of it. He pulls away to shift, hips rolling until he can slot himself perfectly between the larger man's legs, the curve of his ass settling over the substantial warmth of his lap. Looking down at Luther beneath him, Five presses a hand onto his chest, finally raking his eyes up his torso with intent, much moreso than the fleeting glances he'd offer Luther prior. "You really grew up," He mutters, tone unreadable on whether or not that was a good thing.

It seemed to be good enough, at least. Five's hand fists in the worn, pilled chest of Luther's sweater, and he bends down again to pick up the kiss where they'd left off. Teeth meeting teeth, another introduction of tongue, and Five's fingers slip up the heavy layers that Luther had cultivated. A hungry snarl leaves him, leaving no space for argument. 

He doesn't even flinch as his fingers meet the first swath of coarse, knotted skin or long, untamed hair. Five flattens himself as much as he can, hands still dragging down Luther's chest and abdomen, well-manicured nails hardly enough to make a mark on genetically enhanced skin.

Luther gasps, loudly, as Five's hands rake over his body. Not only because it's been so many years since he was last touched intimately, but because he's never been touched _like this_ before. He's never had someone else's hands on him since the change he'd suffered, and although he's certainly since touched his own body and gotten a feel for the texture and sensitivity of his body, he'd somehow convinced himself that he'd never be able to feel the touch of a lover. 

Apparently he was wrong. Five's hands feel like heaven on his chest and belly, smooth as silk against leathery tough hide and as curious as they were unbothered by his appearance. Luther eats at his mouth with an embarrassing litany of noises pouring from his throat, goose bumps raising down along his legs and tingling sharply in the corners of his jaws, behind his ears. 

"Five," he gasps against his mouth, his cock swelling faster than he'd care to admit as it hits him that they're rutting in the living room, of all places. "We should-- bed-- bedroom, it's-- close, we can-- lock the door."

" _You_ started this, Luther," Five's voice was crisp, even as it breaks in the middle, his teenage body ruining any semblance of maturity he could portray. He sits, unmoving, on Luther's lap, unsympathetic to his concern and absolutely callous to the comfort of any stray Hargreeve that might walk through those massive, double-oak doors.

Bending over him, Five's delicate touches turn to bite, nails raking across his belly as he bites at his lip, kissing and dragging his tongue over the spot. His brain rushes as he thinks about how long it had been, and it's that fire that fuels him now. His hands insatiable, dragging long stripes down his torso until deft hands tug at his belt, matching hips that grind and rut down onto him. It's a clipped, patternless motion, borne more of need than tact, hunger boiling hot in his belly and demanding satisfaction by making his entire body feel like it was on fire. 

Leaning back, Five looks down at Luther with bright eyes clouded dark, and he pulls at his tie, loosening it around his neck and pulling open a few buttons on his shirt, enough to let him breathe as he leans down to capture Luther's lips in another scathing kiss, broken only by his animalistic urge to drag teeth and tongue across Luther's lips, tucking his head in to suck a bright, cherry-red mark under his jaw.

Luther's brain is rapidly fuzzing out the more Five's hands roam his body, but it was the sight of him sitting in his lap and undoing his uniform that really did him in. Seeing that brought back so many old memories, memories of frantic trysts in their rooms or in a closet somewhere, cramped together in a space too small for the both of them, peeling off layers just to survive in the humid environment of their mutual heavy breathing. 

It hits him just how long it's been for him, too. Since before the team broke up, and not a day since. It's not like he had a wealth of options after everyone moved out, his father would have killed him if he even thought about bringing someone home between missions. He had to keep his eye on the prize at all times, and after his transformation when his life had been saved, he was sure nobody would _want_ to be with him. Five is very handily proving that wrong. 

Five's mouth against his neck makes him grunt softly, and his hands instinctively tighten around Five's hips, hard enough that the older man can really feel the pressure in his pelvis. Luther could easily crush him like an empty soda can if he tried, but still he's being so gentle with him. Well-- gentle in a sense. Compared to the strength he's capable of, he's treating Five with the delicacy one might handle a raw egg, but even as it is, he tugs Five's hips down to meet the upward grinding of his own, already hopelessly turned on. 

" _Fuck_ , Luther," Five's voice is a snarl in the larger man's ear as he can feel his hefty cock grinding against his ass. His own is trapped, mercilessly and without reprieve in the usually-breezy wool shorts, now abysmally not so much. He can feel every inch of the massive bulge he was rutting against, heavy and throbbing, even through the layers separating them from one another: Or maybe that was just him. 

He doesn't have a plan. A quick fuck? Something slow? His mouth salivated at the idea of tasting him, and as Five's mouth works against Luther's jaw, he moves upward, capturing his earlobe between his teeth. He pulls, none too gently, either unconcerned for Luther's sensitivity or knowing the brute could take it, more likely the latter. This was always how it had been for them, Five's one-track mind treating sex like an extracurricular activity to his experiments and Luther's romantic attention almost entirely focused on Allison at the time, and he slips back into the role with a gusto he wasn't aware he could muster.

Oh, to be young again. He can feel his cock twitching, can feel his entire body sing under the graze of Luther's teeth, the rough grate of monstrous hands on exposed, pale skin, only a sliver of which was able to be seen as his shirt rises up, mostly at Luther's doing. A bead of sweat collects at his temple, and even that he can feel with sickening clarity, his body jolted like by a livewire, every touch bringing him closer as the never-ending grind of their bodies pushes Five closer and closer to that ledge, chest heaving for his efforts as he sucks another bruise just behind Luther's ear.

Emotion knots in Luther's chest as it really sinks in how impossible this very scenario felt until this exact moment. He wasn't brazenly optimistic like Vanya had been that Five would come home to them. He'd resigned himself years ago to the fact that he would never, ever see Five again. He'd done his mourning so long ago. He'd gotten comfortable with the reality he lived in missing two brothers. 

Now to not only have Five home, but to hold him in his arms again like he used to, small and smooth and nimble as if no time at all had passed... as if they were just picking up where they left off? Tears fill Luther's eyes but don't spill down his cheeks, and he pulls Five down to crush him in a tight hug, moaning into his ear as he grinds up against him, cocks pressed together like twin irons, thin cotton shifting against unrelenting denim. 

"Five-- oh god, Five, Five--" he groans, the muscles in his thighs and belly flexing and shuddering. He abruptly flips them over, depositing his older brother under him and laying on top of him, propped up on one elbow over his head, his other hand pinning Five down at the waist as he frots against him like his life depends on it. Their foreheads touch and press, mouths mingling in a series of sloppy kisses, and Luther's thighs tremble as he cums with a breathy, almost pained whimper, hunched on top of his smaller brother like a shuddering beast.

Five clings and holds on tight, turned so fast he could never have expected the flip. His mouth his open, but his noises are quieter, snarls and grunts where Luther moaned and gasped. He felt so small, so abysmally, mournfully small, but beneath Luther hadn't he always been? He presses open-mouthed kisses to his lips, swallowing his cries and spreading his legs. His hips arch, he clenches tight-- 

And above him, he feels Luther come, can feel the wet dampness as it clings to his own pants through the denim. He's so close too, wants to be in that place with him. Wrapped in the circle of Luther's body and arms, Five feels his brain go soft at it, nostalgia enough to bring tears anew to his eyes. He'd missed this. The closeness, the feeling: Even the sound of his name on Luther's lips, the gravelly, low groan of his voice sending spikes into his head and burning a hole in his gut. He hadn't known this had meant so much to him. It'd been a means to an end, affection and love where he otherwise got none. 

Small hands raise and fist in Luther's hair to drag him down into a kiss that has meaning. He swallows Luther's moans with his mouth as he comes, tasting sweat on his lips, pleasure on his tongue. The broad, room-shaking chime of the grandfather clock in the corner punctuating their union.

Luther moans into Five's mouth as he comes down, relaxing on top of his brother, panting against the side of his neck and leting out a breathy, giddy laugh. He leans up on his elbow to look down at Five with shiny eyes and a flushed face bursting at every wrinkle with love. 

"Five, you," he starts, and then feels another twitch under him. "Oh, jeez, you didn't, uh--" he can't say it out loud. He never could, and some things never change. He kneels up betweeen Five's spread legs and sits back on his feet to inspect the painful looking arch at the front of his brother's shorts, oversized fingers clumsy on the button at the front. 

Five laughs, looking down at himself, the odd, pale splotch where his brother had rubbed off on him-- literally. "I guess it was... harder to get out of my head than I expected," He admits with some reluctance, hips arching. Luther's palms are close, fumbling with the button of Five's fly, and he embarrassingly turns his head to hide the bright pink flush he could feel spreading over his cheeks-- undivided attention was something he couldn't entirely handle, and as close and oversensitive he was...

He spies the clock in the corner, having long finished its chime announcing the turn to noon, and all at once his brain kicks into gear again and he pauses, a slim hand finding Luther's and stilling the fumbling attempts at reciprocation, "Weren't you supposed to pick Allison up from the airport?" He asks, turning back to the clock, pointedly.

Luther's head snaps up to the clock and his eyes widen. "Oh SHIT--" he lurches off the couch in a hurry, and then stops just as quickly, shoes squeaking on the floor as he seems torn on whether to tear ass out the door or finish what he started, taking a single stuttering step in both directions as he yanks his shirt back down to cover his stomach.

Five laughs again, leaning back against the arm rest of the couch and waving a flippant hand, "I'm not going anywhere. Maybe the kitchen to make a snack. There'll be time," He drawls, eyes lingering on Luther's face, those nervous steps. He can't help but smile, just a little, a warm note of affection blooming in his chest. Yeah, he'd missed home. "We'll just say you owe me," He offers, with a smarmy wink, to boot.

"Okay," Luther says, quickly pulling the fly of his own pants shut. He won't even have time to get changed before picking up Allison... he can only hope she won't notice. "I'm so sorry, Five, I-- I'll make it up to you, I swear. Later, I'll-- I'll find you or something, promise."

His shoes thump all through the house as he beats a fast, guilty retreat. He's already going to be twenty minutes late, at least, and it'll take him the whole ride there just to come up with a convincing lie about his tardiness. He doubts she'd appreciate it much if he told her outright he was too busy humping their brother into the couch.


	2. Diego

Five lays in one spot for longer than was probably necessary, calming the beating of his heart through heavy breathing, the burning in his stomach slowly fizzling into a dull ache. Looking down, he can only notice that one particular problem has yet to subside, but that'll go away with time. Finally, with a dramatic groan he pushes himself up, tugging his sleeves down and buttoning his shirt once more, tugging his tie back to his perfectly tightened knot at the base of his throat. 

He finds his blazer strewn on the ground behind the couch, and as he pulls it on, he tries to maintain as casual of an air as was possible-- when sporting what he was sporting. Fortunately for him, at least, most of the other students opted to stay away from the common areas during the bulk of the day, otherwise occupied by their personal lives, careers, or with brooding, no doubt. So, Five finds himself with the run of the house, and that suits him just fine.

With Allison and Luther guaranteed gone for the time being, and the other Hargreeves to the wind, Five takes his time heading to the kitchen, awkwardly hobbling as he was, giving himself ample space lest.... things....get pinched. He makes it there to find it blissfully empty, and goes about the arduous process of making himself a sandwich, his stomach growling and a suddenly insatiable appetite rooting him to the spot. He had half a mind to just eat a spoonful of peanut butter as it was-- god knew he could use the protein.

Standing behind the table in the center of the room, his _predicament_ luckily hidden from view as he makes his sandwich, his attention is taken by the sound of the kitchen door opening. He looks up sharply to see Diego in the doorway, still holding the knob and frozen on the spot. 

Really, Diego shouldn't be afraid of his own brother. And he's not _afraid_ , thank you very much. He's just... cautious. Things have been fucking weird, that's all. Since they got back, the two of them haven't had a chance to connect man to man, now that everything is calm-- and Diego has been more focused on trying to figure out how the hell to navigate his and Lila's... whatever it is they've got. It's been challenging. 

Diego's not a man to shy away from challenge, but when it's an _emotional_ challenge, he can barely juggle one at a time. And here he is, making dead eye contact with another one. Still he remains rooted in place, motionless and silent, as if he could just evaporate if he dissociated hard enough. 

Five breaks eye contact first, not out of awkwardness, but out of mercy. Diego was too proud to make the first move and too stupid to break the ice, so he figures he might as well cast the first line. He was feeling charitable. Raising an eyebrow, he goes back to making his sandwich, spreading peanut butter on his toasted bread. "What was it that dad used to say? 'Succeed or quit, to do nothing is the biggest sin of all'? Something like that," He licks the peanut butter off of his knife as he turns back to give Diego a look. "I'm not going to bite you, Diego. Do you need the kitchen?"

"I was just bringing dishes," Diego says, grateful to Five for breaking the spell first, and he opens the door the rest of the way to carry the dishes he'd had propped against his hip. "We should get a chore chart going or something if we're all gonna be living here again."

He sets the dishes in the sink and turns the water on hot, testing it on his palm as it comes out of the pipe, glancing at Five out of the corner of his eye. " _Are_ you gonna live here again? I was thinking of closing my lease and moving home if everyone else was. It'd be nice to be a team again."

Five carefully tilts himself away from Diego, subtlely so the other man doesn't notice, looking down at his sandwich as he decides to actually follow through with a conversation with him. That's new. Welcome, but new. Lately it had been like getting Diego to encounter a ghost-- he was used to his presence causing surprise and whatever other emotions the group felt, but Diego in particular seemed actually spooked by his presence. 

Tossing the knife in the sink, since Diego was doing the dishes, anyway, he leans over and takes a voracious bite of his sandwich, swallowing hard before he answered, "Don't you live in a boxing hall?" He asks, sounding amused and teleporting to the fridge instead of walking. It probably looked like he was showing off, or just plain lazy, but this was easier than trying to shuffle around his brother and risk looking like a limping dog. He was just as worked up as before, only getting itchier the longer it went untouched. 

"...That was uncalled for," Five says after a moment, taking a breath, "Anyway, I think if I tried to live anywhere else, I'd be cited for truancy, considering my physical age. Since I have absolutely no intention of going to school.." Five gestures, "Here I am. Besides, I'm sure Luther will appreciate the company. Vanya moved back last week, you know."

"Yeah, I know," Diego says as he squirts dish soap onto the dishes and scrubs into them with the sponge. "She and I actually talked for a while last night. About her book and everything."

He coughs to clear his throat, and glances over at Five again. One emotional challenge at a time, huh? He can't just ignore Five forever, and if he could tackle his shit with _Vanya_ surely he can handle Five. The only difference is, he and Five had a pretty... heated relationship when they were younger. Constantly trying to one up eachother both in and out of the bedroom. Deigo's had a complicated relationship with his sexuality since then, maintaining a veneer of heterosexuality in spite of the memories of his brothers that sometimes get him harder faster than even the sight of a fully naked woman can. 

"You... it's nice to have you around again," he says all in a rush, like it was a physical pain to be tender for a minute.

Five turns to give Diego a surprised look, and for the second time in so many days his heart does an odd, squeezing gesture, like it's pumping something else that makes his chest warm and his emotions volatile, at best. A compliment? From _Diego_? His mind buzzes as he looks over at his brother, curiosity plain as day on his face as he just... stares himself. It would be a contemplative look, if Five wasn't entirely sure this was actually his brother, and not some clone made by an alien species he didn't know about. He never thought, of all people, that Diego would....

"You think so?" He asks lightly, trying to keep the tone conversational before deep. Deep talks tended to go poorly, for the both of them: Better to avoid it altogether. He sets his water down, rounding the old, wooden table to give himself something do. A distraction technique. There's another hesitation from the smaller man, but finally he laughs a litle, if only to break the mood. "If you count the picture over the fireplace, it's like I never left."

" _Fuck_ that picture," Diego says with feeling as he turns off the water and sets the clean dishes in the strainer, drying off his hands with the towel looped over the cabinet handle. "Fuck everything in this house that isn't you, me, and the rest of our family. I wanna strip all the academy shit outta this house first chance I get, you with me? Luther might raise a stink but if we does, I say we put all the shit in his room."

"Oh, I don't know. You and me, I bet Luther would agree with us by sheer willpower alone," Five admits with a little, tight-lipped smile. Teleporting back to the table with his sandwich, he sits down just so he doesn't have to keep avoiding Diego and his ever-present problem. "There are a few things I can think of to save, but I doubt anyone would have a problem with it." Five looks up at the low ceiling, the antiquated bomb-shelter of a vibe their entire kitchen had. Lord be it for a house to have an easily-accessible kitchen. "I think we all kind of hoped this place would be destroyed when we got back. Just a little."

"Maybe a little," Diego admits as he circles around the table to sit catty-corner to Five's right. "Woulda sucked, trying to get everyone to fit in mine or Vanya's apartment, though." 

He's silent for a moment, looking down at the table, and he traces a few old lines scored into the surface from ages ago as he chews on the words he wants to say. He can feel them, heavy and burning at the back of his throat, but actually getting them out of his mouth is proving to be more challenging than he expected. Diego's entire life has been one long series of attempts to prove himself to everyone in his life. To Luther, to their father, to their other siblings... and it's manifested in ways that he knows in his gut aren't healthy, but he has such a miserable time overcoming. 

Swallowing hard, his voice stutters only very slightly. "I don't w-- want you to leave again. I want us to stick together this time. For good."

Five looks over at Diego, his face hard to read. At the best of times, his face is inscrutable, but when he was being intentionally hard to read it was like trying to discern meaning from a grassy hill. His brows twitched slightly over his eyes, which were hard and carefully deprived of emotion as Diego speaks. He couldn't help the guilty flip of his stomach, hearing that stammer. He hated hearing it in the past, and he hates hearing it now. Hates even more than the idea of talking to him makes him nervous enough to relapse. 

"Trust me, I learned my lesson," Five says, but when he speaks his voice is quieter, almost gentle in its intonation. His chest hurt. First Luther, now this. It almost felt felt like a reward, like he was dreaming and he was going to wake up in that wasteland of grit and roaches with only Dolores to keep him company. Or maybe he was in Heaven, the apocalypses his purgatory after a long life left alone. Tearing his thoughts back to the present, Five tries again, "I don't know what's waiting for us in the future fifteen years from now, but I think this time I'll find out with you guys. We seem to work better together, agreed?" He smiles, tight-lipped, and takes a bite of his sandwich to distract from the knot in his throat.

"Agreed," Diego says, clearing his throat, glad they'd gotten that out of the way. He sighs in relief, as if taking his first breath after holding it for ages, thankful that they're past the awkward part. "So uh-- it's true you killed the whole Commission Board, huh? What was that even like?"

A little laugh leaves him, and Five finishes the sandwich in two bites, the whole thing downed quicker than he realized he meant to eat it in. He was hungrier than he thought. Must be the hormones, the same bloody things keeping his chest warm and his breathing just the slightest bit too heavy for casual conversation. 

"Easier than I expected it to be," he admits, leaning back in his chair, "I'll admit, it wasn't my best work. I had to improvise. But I got to use an axe, so that was new."

"An _axe?"_ Diego repeats, leaning forward on his elbows on the table, his eyes lighting up like Five just told him he's getting him a puppy for Christmas. "Shut the fuck up."

He can't help but smile, shrugging, only looking a _little_ pleased with himself. Well, a lot pleased with himself, far more pleased than any one person should be at slaughtering an entire room of arguably innocent people. "Hey, I'm small. There were like 10 of them. I couldn't go in empty handed, right?" Standing, he brings his plate to the sink, but doesn't wash it, turning to lean against the counter and hoping Diego is too enraptured to notice as Five puts on a show of thinking, arms crossed, "Actually, I did put one through the ceiling. And the Chairman I actually took for a souvenir. Not for me, for someone else."

"With a fucking _axe_ ," Diego repeats. "God, I wish I coulda been there to see that. I haven't even really gotten to see you in action. Luther said it was badass, you wanna spar sometime? I doubt Luther'd go toe to toe with me anymore. He's gone all noble and soft now that we're back, probably gonna stay that way."

"Guess that depends," Five admits, sounding just a little bit reluctant, but only in a way that was appropriately condescending. He's happy for the banter, happier than trying to share an emotion when there was obviously so much the pair could still not yet say. It was easier than faking it, easier than pushing for a moment that could never be quite what he wanted it to be. So, he leans into what it was. "You still a sore loser?"

"No," Diego lies, standing up from the table and crowding into Five's space. "I never woulda _been_ a sore loser if you hadn't been such a smug little shit, either. You're _still_ a smug little shit. I'm not gonna believe you killed the whole Comission Board with an axe until you gimme a little more detail. For all I know you're embellishing and you really just pumped some kinda toxic gas into the room to put em all to sleep."

Five holds his breath for the first second Diego crowds into his space, but is careful not to let the other man catch on. Fortunately, his poker face is the best in the house, and he doesn't let anything on: Especially not now that their nearness is almost too much for his gut to handle, burning anew at the proximity when he had finally been getting himself to calm down. It would figure. 

Still, he cranes his head up to look at the taller man-- annoying as it would be, it was something he'd have to get used to, at least until he hit a growth spurt or two-- and narrows his eyes. His arms fold over his chest, and he stands his ground without so much as a lean away, against the cool marble of the counter. "You always liked details, didn't you?" He says, somehow even managing to make that sound smug. 

"The first one fainted before I killed her. Disappointing, but I chopped off her arm while she was trying to dial security, so I can't really blame her. Two and three I eviscerated, two vertically from behind, three right across the stomach, they were both dead before they hit the floor. Four I put through the ceiling, specifically the fluorescent filaments, which either burned or impaled his brain, not really sure which happened first. I got a drink of water, then sliced five's throat because it seemed like he was in shock anyway, and I'm just partial to the number five. Six and seven I decapitated with one swing, because I really just wanted to see if I had the momentum to get through them both in one go-- turns out, I did. Eight I broke the sternum of, that was mostly an accident, I was trying to go right for the heart on that one, and nine I ruptured his skull with my axe," Five doesn't break eye contact once as he calmly explains his litany of deaths without so much as a quiver of remorse. And why would he?

Five does shrug, though, "The Chairman I took a cricket bat to, smashing his bowl and putting him in a sandwich bag. Then I had a piece of cake. Happy?"

"Shit," Diego murmurs. It's never been a secret of the house that Diego was arguably the one who took to combat with the most... gusto. That's stuck with him through his adult life. It's not explicitly the viscera or taking of life that excites him, but the only time he ever managed to get positive reinforcement of any kind when they were coming up was when he was particularly effective during combat, and that positive association between violence and the pleasure of attention made its mark on him. He swallows hard. "That's hot."

"So how about it, Diego," Five drawls, leaning forward just a bit to get properly in his face, eyes narrowing on his. He hadn't cut his hair yet, and Five was still trying to decide where he stood on it. This close, he could tell Klaus was right-- he _did_ look a little bit like Antonio Banderas. It wasn't a bad look, but there was definitely something to be said for the scar. "You still think you can take me?"

"Yeah. I could take you," Diego says, leaning into Five's space, bracing his hand on the counter beside the older man's side so close that the side of his wrist just barely brushes the knuckles of Five's crossed arms. "But at least it sounds like it'd be a good time. I'd hate to break you in half too easy, that'd just be embarrassing for you."

Five can distinctly feel his heart beating in his chest, as well as his blood as it thrums through his veins, making him warm all over, tight all over, "If I'm remembering right, I'm the one who did most of the breaking when we were kids. Or did you forget that to spare your own ego?" He tilts his head, leaning forward, nearly chest-to-chest with the other man, just shy of standing on his tip-toes to prove a point.

"I'm a lot bigger than you now," Diego doesn't back away even an inch, their chests nearly touching. "Don't matter if you're some bigshot super-assassin if I can hold you down with one hand. So long as you don't cheat and port across the room, anyway."

Diego is significantly less jumpy about the history the children all shared with fooling around, it would seem-- and it's true. While Luther had always desperately tried to fit exactly into the mold everyone expected of him, Diego had a more significant rebellious streak. He _liked_ pushing limits, breaking molds, making people uncomfortable-- and he likes his siblings. The math doesn't need to be any more complicated than that.

He grabs Five by the chin, angling his head up to look at him. "You feelin' like a cheater, Five?" 

Five only greets him with that same, smarmy little grin, closed mouth and large, leaning forward and raising up just a little to prove his point, "It's a shame," He drawls, voice like ice, "All this time and you haven't learned a thing." And as if he exists just to piss Diego off, he vanishes from his grasp with a quiet thwp, appearing on the other end of the table, both hands on the the thick oak. "It's not cheating if I'm just better than you."

"It _IS_ cheating you little shit," Diego says, and lunges for his brother-- but he's smiling. He chases him around the table just halfway before launching himself over the middle to cut his distance in half, knocking Five to the ground in the process. He rolls onto his shoulder and pops up just in time to see Five sitting up, and from this angle with gravity pulling his shorts, he can _definitely_ see the problem he's sporting, and he grins. "Damn Five you're just as freaky as when we were kids, huh?" he jeers as he jumps to his feet along with his brother.

He shrugs, trying to pass it off as something casual, "I hung out with Luther today. Must still be feeling a little worked up," Five explains, but his face is flushed. He gets the same adrenaline rush now as he did back then, and again he feels the familiarity of the situation. Like Luther before him, Diego manages to make Five's chest go warm and cottony, his head spacy. Sentiment is what he chalks it up to, nostalgia if he must, "I wouldn't take it personally, so far you've provided me with some mediocre banter at best," He clicks his tongue, "And that doesn't quite do it for me."

"Wh--" Diego's cheeks go red. "You fucked _Luther_ before me?!" He didn't really mean to say that out loud, but it's already out of his mouth now and he can't take it back.

"Did I say fucked? No. I said hung out," Five walks down the table again, putting some space between them, like a fighter circling their opponent. He has no intention on leaving, not when they were finally having such a good talk. "Surely you're not _jealous_ ," Five drawls incredulously, leaning over the wood again, smiling, "Diego, you're a little old for that, aren't you?" It sounds like he's chastising him.

"I'm not _jealous_ I'm just embarrassed for you. First fuck getting back into our timeline and it's with _Luther?_ You could do so much better, Five. You really must be desperate if you went to _Number One_ ," Diego jeers right back, circling the table in the other direction like a tiger.

"Did your listening comprehension go down with your looks? Besides, have you seen him? He's half instinct now. If I _were_ to fuck someone, I'm sure I could do much worse than him. Like, say, you. Tell me, do you really wanna find out what it feels like to be taken care of by a 13 year old? Do you want that on your pride?" 

"Don't make it _weird_ dude, you're not 13," Diego claps back, matching Five step for step. "You just-- look, I was the same age as you when you looked like this last time and I had the hots for you then. It's just muscle memory, don't be nasty."

"Unfortunately for you, I'm now much older than I was back then. And if I could take you down then, can you even imagine what I could do to you now?" Five leans further across the table, outright smirking, "Let's be honest, Diego, I could have you on your knees in three seconds flat, and you'd thank me for it."

Goading Five into getting all smug is exactly what Diego wanted. When last he dove over the table, he snatched up a butter knife from the surface, which he now throws with deft aim, as always, to pin Five's sleeve to the tabletop. It wouldn't prevent him from porting out, but the surprised gives Diego just enough time to lunge over the table once more, and this time he catches Five by the back of the neck and pushes him down over the table, looming on top of him so tightly that he grinds the smaller man's cock against the edge of the wood. 

"Oh yeah? Would I thank you?" Diego groans, bearing down on Five, the tight fabric of his own trousers tenting at the front when his groin makes contact with his older brother's ass. 

Five tries to push up and away, but muscle-for-muscle he absolutely stood no chance against Diego, especially pinned to the table as he was, especially in the state he was in. A low grunt actually leaves him as his hips inadvertently grind against the wood, and at the heft against his ass, he's all-too imaginative as to the implications. 

It had always been Five when it came to Diego. Five was the leader, as much as the other boy tried, Five was the instigator. They'd bickered like this almost more than anyone else in the house, and it usually always ended the same: Diego under Five, snarling through a particularly rambunctious fuck that left them both breathless and exhausted for the day, but sated. It feels the same now, his stomach roaring with equal parts triumph and hunger, his hands clutching at the table as he tries, again, to push himself up against those immovable arms. 

Diego's voice leaves a cold thrill over Five's neck, enough to raise goosebumps along his exposed skin, crawling up even to his neck. "So you can adapt," He says, his voice muffled against the wood. He didn't even mind, "Took you long enough. This a new trick?"

"Yeah, you're not the only one that got foxy with age," Diego says, keeping his hand planted on the back of Five's neck, and reaching around under him with the other. He closes that big hand around Five's entire package, grinding the heel of his hand into the base of Five's cock as he cups and squeezes his balls. He remembers thinking Five was so fucking endowed when they were the same age he is physically now, and to his surprise, that's not just rose tinted glasses and nostalgia talking. the cock in his hand now is actually a pretty decent size for how small Five is-- definitely respectable, and he shows his appreciation with a deep, solid grope now.

Five opens his mouth to say something, anything, but finds whatever words he was planning to say completely overtaken by that hand finding the bulge in his pants that was now aching to be freed. It felt like it had been hours since this had started, time with Luther not included. He felt only slightly strung-out and breathless, this kind of a sensation absolutely foreign to him for however many decades he'd been gone. His hips, traitors as they were, snap ineffectively into Diego's hand, and Five lets out a growl of pleasure, that turns into a quiet a pathetic, broken-voiced gasp for air, his nails clawing at the wood grain finish, "Diego," He mutters through clenched teeth, eyes squeezing shut, "Would you just-- fucking--- do it, already--" 

He unhelpfully doesn't supply what 'it' is, but Diego can use his imagination. He yanks open Five's shorts and they slip down his skinny legs. He leans back to admire the view, once more transported back in time to when they were kids, thoughtlessly fooling around, taking comfort and pleasure and delight in their mutual, clumsy exploration. Their squabbles for dominance would often end with Diego hugging a pillow on his side to keep his voice muffled while Five rutted against him from behind and stroked his cock. 

Very rarely did they ever indulge in penetrative sex, not because of a lack of interest, but because of a general lack of _time_. It got better when Five got more of a handle on his teleportation powers and could come to Diego's room directly, but that was so shortly before his disappearance that they never really had a long time to experiment with it. 

They do now, but Five is so small that Diego's almost afraid to try (almost) He tugs Five's briefs down to hug around his quivering thighs, and spits on his hand, hooking his middle finger into his older brother with a confident thrust, twisting it inside him until his palm faces the ceiling, and he rotates that finger in sharp little flicks, looking for that spot he always had a hard time finding in Five when they were young. His fingers are a lot longer now.

" _Agh--_ " The noise that leaves Five is carnal and animalistic, his face pinned to the table the only thing muffling it from the rest of the house. It surprises even himself, who could not place the last time he'd made such a noise of raw hunger. Low and gutteral, Five's shoulders tighten as he's breached, that long finger probing deep inside of him and touching spots inside of him he'd entirely forgotten existed. In the wasteland, sexual desire was only a hurdle to cross, a chore to cross off his list. A requisite jerk off to his darling Dolores was normally plenty to get him through the month or more, and he hadn't even bothered thinking of what he'd lost, for fear it'd bring up more unpleasant memories than pleasant.

But now he wishes he'd come to Diego first thing. Bent over the table, the corner jabs into his belly, yet he can hardly feel it between the explosive pleasure of his hand and the steadying pressure still holding him by the throat. Five was quickly turning a pretty shade of pink as his chest heaves, heavy breathes clouding the varnish of the table as he's made to kiss it, exclusively. 

It takes a second, but Five relaxes around Diego's fingers and accepts him after only a few tight twists, and although he's clearly experimenting, it doesn't seem to be for naught-- Five's entire body jerks and twists after a moment, with one particularly deep plunge that has Diego's finger disappearing into him to the third knuckle-- "There, _there_ , Jesus Christ--" he encourages, "Harder-- right there--" Unable to stop micromanaging, even pinned between a table and Diego's cock.

Breathing hard himself just from the sight of Five pinned so helplessly and pliant under him, finally living vicariously on behalf of his younger self who'd never had the confidence to put Five in this position as often as he daydreamed about, Diego digs a second finger into his brother, who spreads for it so easily he never would have guessed he hadn't actually fucked Luther. But he can tell he didn't now that he has two fingers pinned inside him up to the knuckle. 

"Fuck, Five, I love your voice," he groans, putting the strength of his entire arm behind the thrusts of his fingers, his bicep flexing as he twists those digits up into his big little brother like he's trying to screw in a light bulb.

His mouth forms words, surely, it must-- Five couldn't have been rendered speechless already. Yet, as Five tries to put voice to syllable, he finds nothing leaves him. His eyes are still closed, a mistake due to the sheer amount of sensation, alone, and his mouth has been relegated to simply dragging in quick gulps of air and releasing them in heavy bursts, his entire body trembling as he's inched higher and higher onto the broad table, that arm ratcheting into him and scoring that spot beneath him, making his knees go weak and his body sag.

It's fortunate that Diego holds him on the table at all. "Fuck, Diego, fuck... _Diego_ \- **_fuck_** \--" Is all he manages to reply to the compliment, his name practically singing from Five's lips with each splitting thrust. His knees shake, toes barely feeling like they're holding anything up, and his hands claw at the table in an attempt to keep himself sane-- But another thrust Diego's fingers has Five shouting again, this time quickly turning his head into the curve of his arm to stifle it.

It almost doesn't feel _real_ having Five like this. Even when they were young and he would occasionally wrest control away from his brother, it would usually be fumbling and insecure with Five jeering him the whole time through. He was never as confident as he feels now. He could never get Five to make the _noises_ he's making now. Then again, his hands were never as big as they are now. 

"Do you want it, Five?" he asks, but remarkably he doesn't actually sound smug about it, or like he's trying to goad his brother into begging. It sounds more like he's actually skeptical at the idea of being able to _fit_. Though Five has gone slack and willing around his fingers, his cock is a significant jump in size, even as he fits a third finger inside Five's tight hole.

"You're going to make me _ask?"_ Five's voice is an all-out snarl, indignant and impatient. Maybe Diego's tone didn't convey the same kind of smug, power-tripping pleasure that he, himself, would have employed in this situation, but he took it there all the same. Strung out and hungry, Five could feel his release so desperately he wanted to lunge for it, wished he could root Diego to one spot and just take what he wanted from him without having to fuck around with power dynamics. 

But that would be a fight, surely, and a fight was not something Five had in him right now. He barely seemed to have bones as he lay draped across the table, body heaving as his eyes screw tightly shut, then open, as if he's torn over whether or not he needs to watch, "Yes, _yes_ , alright? I want you to fuck me-- just _do it,_ already--" He groans, voice tight and obviously desperate for any kind of release at all.

That's all the encouragement Diego needs. He's not as cautious or nervous as Luther, and has more sexual confidence (and recklessness) in spades. "One second," he says, pulling his fingers out of Five. "Shouldn't do this with spit, it sucks compared to the good shit, trust me." 

Luckily he's only gone for a second, grabbing a bottle out of one of the cupboards and returning, slamming it down on the table beside Five's head after dribbling it over his fingers, giving Five the perfect view of the ironically labeled _extra virgin olive oil._ A second later he feels the most sublime glide of fingers inside of him that he's ever felt in his life. The handful of times he'd experimented with anal with his brothers they had just used spit because it was all that was available to them-- but Diego knew better, by now. 

He strokes Five's insides just enough to spread the velvety oil around inside of him to make sure every part of him was slippery, and then a second later Five feels the blunt press of Diego's cockhead against his slack hole-- a sensation that's simultaneously familiar and foreign as the size of it fairly splits him up the middle when Diego pushes inside. 

"Holy-- jesus tapdancing christ--" Diego wheezes as he seats himself fully inside his brother. The pressure alone could be his undoing, even properly prepared and slicked his channel is still an incomprehensible vice around Diego's length, and it takes his breath completely away. 

It's unlike anything he had ever experienced before, unlike anything he could have imagined. Even with Luther's fingers, thick as they were, it was nothing compared to this sensation, and by the time Diego is fully sheathed inside of him, Five can barely speak. His back arches high, like a scared cat, but it makes it worse, his entire body tightening in response to the intrusion. So he forces himself to relax, forces his back to bow and his ass to lean back into Diego's cock-- it sheaths him fully inside, to the point where Five can feel the coarse hair at his base grinding against his ass, split as he was. 

"Jesus-- Jesus _Christ_ ," Five gasps and his voice cracks kittenishly, face flushed from his ears down to his chest, ruddy and splotchy, alternating pale and red. "No-- wonder you let me take lead so often," He manages to get out anyway, a humorless, breathy laugh leaving him as he tries to get one quip in, just the one. His brain is otherwise rendered stupid by the intrusion, made only better as those hips began to actually move, having apparently deemed that if Five was good enough to tease, he was good enough to fuck.

Eyes rolling back into his head and shoulders going slack into the table, Five grits out another tight-toothed moan, grinding his own forehead against the table as if that would offer any clarity. It's elicits a brilliant shot of pleasure-pain, one that mixed with the stern hand clutching him around the throat and made him see stars, gasping turning wet as he chokes out another broken moan, an impatient and throaty, " _Move_."

Reckless as Diego is, he's also mindful of how small and inexperienced this body is. Even if the Five he knew of this size when they were both this age was more experienced with anal play, this version of him isn't. He hasn't had the time to play and explore and figure himself out since reverting back to this age, and Diego keeps that in the back of his mind as he starts out with a moderate clip. 

Even like this, it's almost unbearable. The frictionless, tight drag of Diego's cock punching up into Five's guts renders them both unable to breathe for just a moment every time the larger man's hips bounce off Five's, and the sound of skin slapping on skin slowly increases in speed as Diego takes his time to make sure Five isn't still too tense to take the next gear of this veritable engine. 

"Fuck-- fuck, _fffffuck_ , Five--" Diego grits out, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes, and tipping his chin towards the ceiling. His hands come down on Five's hips, tugging him back to meet his thrusts, the older man's shoes squeaking on the floor every time the tips of his toes brush against it. He doesn't have long enough to get any purchase, he's fucked back up onto the table top too quickly each time, and it gives him a dizzy and weightless feeling to be so helpless under Diego's brute strength. 

What Diego gives as consideration, Five takes as torture. Each languid draw makes him choke, as each slow thrust makes him gag. He can feel every inch, and Five supposes that might very well be the point: Make him feel every inch of him so there would be very little to forget, or even critique. But at this stage Five was well beyond condescension, that shitty attitude cast aside as soon as he managed to wedge a few fingers inside of him.

The hand removed from his neck, Five is able to breathe a little easier and turn his head into the table properly. He can feel his throat throbbing where Diego had held, could feel the burning warmth of his blood returning to burst capillaries. He pulls himself higher on the table so Diego has less to worry about, even as, beneath them, the table begins to groan and clearly ache with its efforts to suspend them both in the throes of pleasure.

"Hang on," Five grates out, his voice like gravel. Without interrupting Diego's pattern or jarring him, he lifts his leg and settles his knee on the table. It's a whole other position, one that opens himself wider, his hole twitching and puckering on nothing even as Diego begins to plow into him in proper earnest, even if it was still a little slow for his tastes.

"Oh _fuck_ , yeah that's it, that's it--" Diego praises when Five goes even softer around him. He catches that knee by the underside in one big hand and props his other palm flat on the table, and his thrusts double in strength now that he's certain Five can take it. The very tip of his other shoe catches the ground and holds on barely as his body is bounced under the force of Diego's pounding. The table's legs squeak and grate against the floor but it remains unmoved, too big to be fucked across the room even by Diego's strength. Luther might have been another story. 

"Shit, that's so good Five-- fuck you're so-- jesus-- fucking-- _shit_ \--" Diego's words are as earnest as they are absolutely useless, offering no information or even real praise beyond the pained grit in his voice as he's overcome by the sheer pleasure of being inside Five again for the first time in decades. His own legs tense and shiver with the pleasure of it as he swiftly climbs that peak to completion. 

Five doesn't have that pleasure. He's been strung out for too long, Luther's demanding grinding mixed with the snap of Diego's thrusts has him frazzled and clinging to the table hard enough his knuckles turn white. His voice breaks as he moans, the warmth in his belly overcoming him, choking him, demanding more and more even as that calloused hand presses up his leg. He can see one of his stupid socks from here, can see the way Diego's hands leave bright red bruises in their wake, high on his thigh. 

He can feel the roaring in his ears, and it doesn't hit him what it is until it's nearly too late. His belly begins to clench, his cock twitching, even caught on the edge of the table as it was, "Diego-- _Diego_ \--" The name begins to drip from his lips like molasses, sweet and hot, each syllable caught by his tongue and dragged through his throat, ending in a snarl of a growl that makes his entire back tighten, "Diego-- I'm--" close, so fucking close, and yet-- "More-- I can take it--" Pushing himself to the limits, hungry to the end, Five nearly goes red as he holds himself together by a thread.

Diego grabs Five around the shoulders with his free arm (which feels as huge around him as Luther's _looks_ ) and he pulls the smaller man up into a squeeze that pins his back to Diego's chest. The breath is nearly choked out of him like this, and with his brother's other hand still pinning his leg up in place, Five is pulled back into a graceful arch that just so happens to put his prostate at the perfect angle to be struck like a battering ram with every relentless stroke of Diego's cock. 

"Yeah, me too," Diego growls in his ear, dropping his face down to grind into the side of Five's neck, and in just a matter of a few more rough thrusts he comes undone with an animal snarl, releasing inside his brother without even a thought to ask if he'd prefer he didn't. 

Five can feel his face go red, the growl in his ear sending spikes deep into his stomach-- and that's really all he needs. The scrape of Diego's beard against his delicate throat, the growl of his voice in his ear; but most importantly the relentless pace, the tagging of that spot within him over, and over, and over-- he doesn't stop, he gives Five exactly what he asked for, and as such he comes, hard, thick spurts hitting the table and smearing against his suit blazer.

Mouth opening with no sound leaving him, the arm around his throat refuses any noise that might slip free. His face is red and the roaring in his ears overtakes him, and his body turns nearly completely to gelatin, held up only by Diego's powerful arms. The slapping of skin on skin recedes as Diego jerks and finishes inside of him, casting the entire room in a dark, hazy light, the silence warm and practically inviting-- or maybe that was the newfound buzz between Five's ears.

They're both left quivering and panting in the glow of their mutual release, glued together by sweat and the strong embrace of Diego's arms. Five fully expects to be dropped flat on the table and left to fend for himself as they so often would as children-- but Diego isn't a child anymore. Instead he's carefully lifted and rolled over to lay flat on his back on the table, and then Diego is gone but only for a moment. 

Five hazily hears the sound of a faucet, and a wash cloth being wrung out, and then Diego returns with a hot, damp cloth that he wipes down the column of Five's neck. Draped over the table like a wet cloth himself, Five just lays there as Diego carefully wipes down his belly and cock, taking extra care now that he's oversensitive and soft, and he even lifts his leg to clean the mess he'd left behind inside him, a slurry of oil and semen leaking out of his slack hole. 

"That was really good," Diego murmurs in a low voice without meeting Five's eye while he works. "Better than any of the stupid shit we did as kids."

Five's core twitches as Diego touches him, and for a breathless second he actually feels another spark of heat ignite deep in his chest, even as he sits there and gulps for air like a fish out of water. The prolonged agony of Luther's earlier torment, mixed with this herculean effort had worn him out, and he can only watch through long lashes as Diego moves around him with all the care and precision of a nurse.

"When'd you get so maternal?" he asks, and is disgusted by the way his voice fractures, barely more than an affectionate croak at this point, so marred by gravel and his own hormones that he can't manage a simple one-liner. Five clears his throat, hoping the coarseness goes with it, looking down the line of his body, embarrassed by the mess he can already see Diego patiently wiping away.

They'd been wrist-deep in one another as children, had just finished fucking, and yet this moment felt possibly like the most intimate exchange they had ever shared. His face burns from looking down at himself, spent and still twitching, so he puts his head back on the table instead, his abdomen thanking him as he stares at the concrete ceiling, "You'll spoil me if you keep this up."

"Yeah, yeah," Diego replies without heat as he pulls Five's socks back up his calves and picks up his underwear and shorts from the ground, tugging them up over his legs. "Having a few girlfriends over the years taught me the value of a little thing called aftercare. It's good for making sure your girlfriend still wants to talk to you an hour after you have sex with her. Uh, speaking of..." he buttons the front of Five's shorts. "Don't mention this to Lila. We haven't... figured everything out yet."

"Are you _dressing_ me?" Five asks, looking down again as he feels the warmth of his underwear and pants encapsulate him, and he can't think of anything less he wanted in that moment. Oh, to be free to be pantsless, just for one second. 

Finally rousing the courage to push himself up onto his arms, Five winces as he forces himself upright, another position he wished he could simply avoid for the time being. But, well, his bed was a table, so perhaps not the best choice for a growing boy, "I have no intention of it. I'm sure it'd be difficult to understand why we would-- well," He tugs at his tie, straightening his blazer on his shoulders. When he looks at Diego again, it's with a tight smile, "It's a gray area. I'll let you decide how or if you expose it to her."

"Yeah... cool," Diego clears his throat, and then pats Five on the shoulder as if they'd just had an ordinary brotherly exchange. "Uh... good talk."

"Not awkward at all," Five drawls, reaching over to return the exact same gesture, a hard clap on the shoulder like he was a proud father at a baseball game. "Now maybe I'll actually be able to sleep, thank you for that," He says, hopping off the table and ignoring the way his entire body screamed at the effort. Fortunately, he was very capable of operating in much worse states than this.

Diego just rolls his shoulders, gives an extremely strained little cough, and then when the moment lingers a little too long, he just turns and walks away, unsure of how to gracefully exit the situation. Truthfully, there is no way and they both know that. But as soon as he gets to the door, he stops in his tracks, unable to leave off on that note. His stomach twists sourly at the thought, and he turns to look back at Five again.

"Hey," he says, his voice rough and warm. He looks at Five's chin instead of his eyes to keep the waver from coming back to his voice. "Just-- mmgh, thank you. For everything. For coming home. For not giving up on this family."

Five had discounted getting any sort of emotional catharsis from Diego, but after Luther, found he wasn't really sure if he could handle another tumultuous moment. Besides, the sex had spoken more succinctly than either Diego and him could piece together, so he contented himself with heading out the opposite door from Diego, heading not to the rest of the house like his brother, but to the bedrooms. 

It's the clear of his throat that gets Five to look up, one hand on the doorknob as he tilts his head, curiously, toward his secondmost brother. And again, that pesky blossom of warmth fills his chest, and again he shoves it down. It was almost too much to take so soon after Luther, but Diego's words strike home regardless, "We're the only thing that matters," He says, smiling slightly, "I have no doubt you would do the same."

He doesn't let Diego dangle in awkwardness for too long, ending his words with a nod and heading out the door before his brother tries to be more sentimental and genuine and bursts an actual blood vessel in his brain in his effort. It's not a sleight against him-- some people are more capable of emotional depth. Five wasn't any better at it, or he'd be the one to bridge that gap, and maybe he ought to have regardless. But eons of living alone doesn't help anyone's social skills, and he'd already been a particular breed of bastard even before his jump-- so he leaves the way he'd planned, letting Diego return to Lila, and him to his peace.


	3. Allison

Five could already feel his stomach growling hungrily in his gut, the second round certainly helping his digestion, if not his peace. Not ready or willing to return to the kitchen, Five makes his way upstairs, instead, hoping the quiet of the sleeping quarters would at least coax him to sleep, where the sibling bonding moment had effectively woken him back up with its pesky warmth making his chest feel almost giddy.

It feels almost fake, how familiar walking the halls like this was. Polished wingtips click importantly on hardwood, and Five tucks his hands into his pockets as he walks past first Vanya's closet of a room, deserted for the day as it often was, then Ben's, Klaus'-- and finally his own door tightly shut and locked, preferring to portal in and out than allow his family even casual entrance into his room. He presses his hand against the knob before the fleeting smell of honey, lavender, and peony breaks him from his reverie. 

More nostalgia hits him heavy in his stomach, and he turns to look down the hall, finding Allison's door wide open, as it was usually. The sun streamed brilliantly in through the window, a breeze catching the delicate gauze of her curtain. Glancing down the hall, then up, Five steels himself before approaching. 

Who knew sentiment would hold such a place in his heart today? Who knew he would spend his entire day agonizing over memories and rekindling what had been lost? As Five nudges open the door with the toe of his shoe, he's surprised when the door doesn't so much as creak as it opens, and he takes that as all the invitation he needs.

Childish posters still line the walls, the vanity still an amalgamation of perfumes, make up, and similarly dreamy magazines. The entire house was like stepping into the past, but Allison's in particular had always held a certain... awe, to it. The easy femininity, the carefree decor-- as if a normal girl lived and came home here after a normal day of school, not a goddess capable of bending the world to her whim with nothing more than a whisper of a request. His fingers trail along the desk, as Five steps further inside.

Here it smelled more like her than ever, and Five allows himself deep, satisfying breaths. A scent he thought he would only dream about for the rest of his life, a scent he had dreamed about for a lifetime, now engulfing him, was almost too much to bear. Five smiles around the knot in his throat, allows the delicate, thin tulle of the curtains to slip between his fingers, his other hand clutched in his pocket as he allows himself to wander, finally at peace in the silence of his home, in the room of his longtime crush.

He's so lost in his imaginings and memories that he doesn't hear the sharp _click-click-click_ of heels making their way down the hall. With a letter clutched in her hand, Allison makes her way towards her old bedroom, where she knows for a fact that she has some decades-old stamps tucked away in her desk that she'd never used when she got them because they were limited edition NSYNC branded. It would be only slightly embarrassing to send Ray a letter with an NSYNC stam on the envelope, but at this point it's either that or go out to the post office after the long flight she'd just underwent. 

She enters the room looking entirely like she belongs on a runway rather than like she just came off a long cross-country flight, in a white wrap dress and floor length tan duster, resplendant as ever, but her appearance catches Five's attention only second to her presence. 

"Five?" she stalls in the doorway, confused. "Are you-- why are you in my room?"

He couldn't win today. That was all there could be to it, it was a cursed day. Taking in Allison, Five realizes that his default, carefully-blank expression would probably serve him rather poorly here, lest he look like some sort of stone-faced pervert. Was that what he'd been reduced to? Sniffing curtains and loitering in rooms he had no business being in? "Remembering," He admits with a horrible attempt at a smile. There was a tightness in his chest unlike the warmth his brothers had caused, unlike the anticipation, too.

Awkward. Was he feeling _awkward?_ His smile was almost more a pained grimace than a reassuring thing, and he looks down quickly, shoving his other hand deep into his blazer pocket, shaking his head as he stares at the floor for a beat, "Sorry. I'll get out of your way. I didn't know you'd be back so soon, or I never would have... anyway." He says, and hesitates, waiting for her to leave the doorway. He couldn't very well pass her, could he? He could barely look at her.

His awkwardness instantly softens Allison, and her confused expression melts into sympathy. Out of all her brothers, Five was probably the _least_ likely to be doing something strange in her room, anyway.

"Hey, it's okay," she tells him softly, and she walks forward to set the sealed letter down on the desk and for just a moment he can see the address made out to one Raymond Chestnut of Sycamore Sunset retirement fame, before Allison's manicured hand closes around his bicep to keep him from walking away. He _could_ teleport away... but he never would. "I don't mind you being in here, it just took me off guard."

Five almost looks startled at the touch of her hand on his arm, and he glances at it with his brows furrowed, as if the gesture itself was confusing to him. On some small scale, it was. Had his family always been this tactile? Especially with him? Or were two apocalypses and a life-changing twist of structural dichotomy doing to them the very same as it was doing to him? 

Or maybe they just missed him, but that had to be the least likely alternative.

"I'm glad you made it back in one piece," Five offers, instead of anything sincere that could make his heart twist any more than her hand on his arm had made it already, "How anticlimactic would that be if a flight took you out? But I'm sure you're tired, so--" He tries to excise himself from her grasp, stepping around her while carefully looking just below her eyes. But not at her lips, absolutely not at her lips.

She's not an idiot. She can tell he's trying to get away from her. She can't exactly blame him, she and he never had the strongest foundation to their relationship to begin with. They weren't as close to one another as they were to some of their other siblings-- and it's no secret that hers and Luther's relationship always took the forefront of her mind when they were young. But it wasn't as if her and Five were perfect strangers, or if they were, she didn't want them to be anymore. 

"Don't go," she blurts when he makes it halfway to her door. She really couldn't come up with anything better than that, though she gave it her best effort, panic gripped her nonsensically at the sight of his retreating back. Though logically she knows he's only leaving the room, Five is the last person she wants to see walking away right now. Embarrassed, she sits down on the fluffy chair in front of her desk with a sigh. "Sorry." 

Five goes still, looking up at Allison's half-pained cry. He frowns, hating the way she sinks into the chair, as if not wanting him to leave was an insult. Was he really that untouchable to his siblings? He shakes his head, "It's fine," he says shortly, "From what I can tell, we're all... happy, to see one another." Five steps away from the door either way, affixing a casual air to his steps instead of an awkward one, now that his reputation as a non-pervert was restored. 

"Raymond Chestnut. Your husband, right?" He asks, touching the letter left on her desk, "It's good you're writing him. Have you spoken to him since coming back?" Five asks, "Or will this be the first time?" A conversation to break away from whatever they were feeling, into something hopefully more palatable.

She looks up at Five, relieved that he's staying with her, and she gestures for him to sit on the edge of her bed opposite her. "The first time," she admits, picking up the letter and holding it in her lap, running her thumb across the address written on the front. "It didn't even occur to me to check if he was still alive until yesterday. He's 82 years old, and when I called the home for his room number they told me he has pretty bad Alzheimer's, so he might not even remember me, but..." she sighs, shoulders sagging. "Worth a shot, right?"

"He'll remember you," Five says without hesitation, taking the seat when it was offered. The mattress is still soft beneath him, a miracle considering how long it had to have been there for. He watches the tender way she strokes the letter, the way her thumb drags across words. "Alzheimer's and love is funny that way. You might forget some things, but never the really important ones. He loved you. He'll remember." Five's smile is hard, a little pained as his own stomach clenches. Out of all of them, he and Allison were the only two to ever properly be married, and even though Dolores was.... flawed, he knows all too well the pain in Allison's eyes, the hope that's no doubt bitter in her chest.

As if reading his mind in that moment (it's always crossed the minds of her siblings, whether she could actually read minds in addition to influence them) she looks up at him and sets the letter down while asking, "You were married too, weren't you? Didn't you have a wife?"

Five looks up like he was struck, face pulling into a frown, "Dolores," he says, "The mannequin, but if you're going to make fun of me for it, you should know it isn't going to work." His expression is the most solid it has been since she caught him here, defensive though it may be, as though she were a sentient being. It's always strange, hearing his siblings refer to Dolores directly. It makes her feel real in a way he sometimes forgets she technically isn't. 

"I'm not going to make fun of you," Allison says quickly, standing up to sit beside Five on the bed instead. "How did the two of you meet?"

Five frowns more. Looking at Allison was hard, but she was owed it after all they'd been through. Looking at Allison and talking about Dolores was... agony.

"I found her, shortly after I arrived," He says finally, looking down at his hands. It seems hard to talk about, but then Five realizes that he's never had to, before. The rest of his siblings viewed Dolores as simply a tool, no more intrinsically valuable than a favorite blanket or stuffed toy as a child. The lengths which Five went to find her again and keep her safe held little merit to her existence, and only really served to make him further the butt of a joke. It was fine, his relationship with her was his own, but this was the first time any of his siblings had expressed any interest in her. 

Swallowing, Five looks up at the window across from them, the warmth of Allison's body almost dizzying this close, "I don't really know why I took her. She was one of the first things I found when I was scavenging the city. It seemed... cruel, to leave her there, surrounded by all that.... destruction. The last people I'd found were--" His jaw tightens, and he looks down at his hands again, "I just couldn't leave her there."

"Did you name her yourself, or did she tell you her name?" Allison asks. The question is so earnest it almost would seem patronizing, if not for the gentle expression in her eyes. If anyone understands commitment to a lie so convincing you even fool yourself, it's Allison, and Five knows that all the way down in his guts. 

"I named her myself, though she was the one who asked me to," He admits, a guilty little twist settling in his stomach as he speaks of her, like it was a crime to do so, like he was besmirching her name, giving up their secrets. But she would want to be remembered, surely, and Five wasn't ashamed. "At first I thought we could bond, both being nothing but serial numbers. But she'd lived a lifetime like that already. The department store didn't care about her, but she'd always heard names and thought they were nice. I picked Dolores first, got it in one," He smiles at that, a little distantly, "She called it her birthday from then on. She was sweet like that," Five laughs, shaking his head. He chances a glance at Allison, "Stop me when you decide I'm crazy. I'd rather not end up committed."

Allison, who had been listening with a soft smile, ducks her head with a quiet little laugh. "I don't think you're crazy. I think it's sweet. That need to be loved, it's so human, Five. To find love, to _create_ love... you connected with her when you needed to connect with someone the most. This story she told you about being one mannequin out of a hundred in a department store who never paid her any special attention... it sounds an awful lot like your life coming up, doesn't it? I don't care what any of the others say about her, or if they think you're crazy for loving her. Most people can't mind control or teleport. I don't think it's fair for any one of us to pretend like we know what makes a person. Dolores was _real_. I wish I could have met her."

Five wrinkles his nose in disgust at the implication. The comparison between them. He hadn't considered it, but of course Allison would. It almost felt like a punch to the stomach to hear, as if the concept of her being an extrapolation of his own unresolved feelings was somehow absurd. It wasn't, of course it wasn't, but the thought hadn't exactly occurred to him. He looks down, his throat suddenly tight and unpleasant, twisting with the memory of a mannequin he could easily find and steal again. She was here, in this reality, just where he'd left her. Maybe they'd even put her in sequins. But that chapter of his life was over, _had to be over_. She deserved to be with her friends. His heart ached.

"You would have liked her," Five admits finally, when most of the pain has left his voice. Most, but not all, "She was understanding, but called me out when I needed it. She was my moral compass out there. You need one, when things go to shit like that, otherwise you do, too."

Allison can't stand the anguish in his voice. She wraps an arm around him and turns to pull him against her chest, engulfing him in the billowy sleeves of her dress, and she rests her chin on top of his head. 

"I'm so--" she starts, and when her voice catches, she pauses and tries again. "I'm so proud of you, Five. I can't think of anyone else who would have survived on their own like that. Could you imagine Luther with no purpose? Klaus with no one to pester, Diego with no one to save? I can't even begin to imagine what you went through on your own like that. I'm happy you had Dolores to love you when you were there, and I'm happy to have the chance to love you again, myself."

The air is so thick with the smell of her that Five can barely clear the fog from his mind. It feels overwhelming and too much, memories overlapping with reality and twisting together enough to make his head ache. His frown deepens as his shoulders curve in on himself, the physical affection for the third time that day making his chest sore. 

"...She had your voice, you know," Five admits solemnly, looking at the ceiling, past the cloud of Allison's curls. Crying, apparently, seemed to be the theme of today. Yet just as before in Luther's arms and an hour earlier lying flat on the table, he doesn't allow himself to, though his voice cracks in pain, "In my head, I don't know why. I guess I just-- didn't want to forget what it sounded like." He laughs, his chin sinking onto her shoulder, "It's nice hearing it out loud again."

That makes Allison pause, her heart clenching. She takes Five by the shoulders and pulls him back to look down at him with soft, sad eyes. " _My_ voice?" she repeats, her voice thick. "Not Vanya's? You two were closer."

"Wasn't Vanya I had a huge crush on," Five admits with a half-hearted shrug. He has to look her in the eye now, owes her nothing less, but that didn't make it any less hard to do so. "I wouldn't go so far as to say you were the same person, but... "

Allison gives a soft, breathy laugh, rubbing her thumbs in circles over Five's shoulders. She knew about his crush on her, of course she did. Even if he'd never outright told her in words the way Luther had, it was impossible not to know. She'd been fully aware of the way her siblings all fooled around with one another, especially the boys, but she'd been so focused on Luther that she barely gave Five any of the attention he frankly deserved from her. 

God, she'd been a selfish child. 

"I'm flattered," she tells him softly. "I'm sorry I wasn't more attentive of you when we were younger. I know the fleeting kisses we shared were a pittance, I wish my head hadn't been so far up Luther's--" she clears her throat with an embarrassed smile. "I should have been better to you."

"No, no," Five shakes his head, looking at Allison in earnest now, "You were right to be up Luther's. It was only fair, I don't think I've seen such a crush in my entire life, he deserved to have that reciprocated," he admits, and he's genuine about it too-- that, at least, she can tell. He wasn't bitterly harboring resentment over his siblings' affection for each other, just as he would never expect them to harbor it over him.

Not that most of his siblings gave him that sort of affection, but he was also particularly hard to tolerate for more then an hour when he was preoccupied. Unoccupied he was even worse, "Besides, I can't imagine that would have gone well. There was a reason I ended up stranded in the future. My one track mind would have pulled you in with me."

"Maybe you wouldn't have gone at all, if you had a reason to stay," she says softly, brushing hair off his forehead with the back of her hand, trailing her knuckles down the side of his jaw. He really is handsome, she feels an old ache in the middle of her sternum for the memory of everything they lost when he disappeared. She did her mourning so long ago, but to be faced with him again, with those big, sad, wise eyes and the catlike curl of his mouth, it takes her right back to when she would humor him with kisses now and then after he followed her like a duckling in between training sessions. 

"I was too one-track minded," Five admits, but he can't help the sudden shakiness on his inhale, her hands on his face almost too gentle, far too sweet for anything he could have hoped for in his past life. Whereas before he had a hard time catching her eye for any amount of time, now it seemed impossible for him to leave it, eyes sharp on her face as he speaks, even as he swallows, heavily. "I'm not sure what would have been the worse case. Bringing you with me and subjecting you to that torment, or alienating you and risking you hating me. All things considered, it's probably best things worked out this way. For you, if no one else," He says, a little speechless as he finishes.

"For me," she repeats, pain in her voice. "What about you? When does Five get to be taken care of? When does Five get to be happy?"

Five still doesn't pull away, though he does frown a little, eyebrows furrowing, "I'm happy," He argues, although it doesn't sound entirely convincing, even if it is the truth. He blames the hand still gently cradling his jaw, a touch he wasn't sure he'd ever actually experience until well into his second adulthood.

"Happier than I've been in decades. I'm back in my right timeline, at generally the right time. The body's a little frustrating, I would have liked to age at the same time as all of you guys, but at worst that means some annoying teasing while I go through puberty a second time," Five brings his hands to Allison's on his jaw, taking it in both of his. He looks her in the eye earnestly, smile tight, eyes as sincere as he can possibly make them, "I'm okay, Allison. I'm just happy I get to be here with you again."

Maybe it's a bad idea. She doesn't really know if he'd grown out of his crush or not, so she could be way off base in the desire to kiss him that burns on her tongue. She wants to lean into him, to give him everything he deserves, even if he thinks he doesn't need it. Especially then. If nothing else, she could say it's for old time's sake. 

She cups and lifts his face in both hands and leans in to press their mouths together. Her lip gloss tastes faintly fruity on Five's tongue, and the bouyant curls of her hair that she stopped straightening as soon as they got home surround him like a curtain. She sighs through her nose as nostalgic pleasure fills her veins with warmth, and her eyelashes flutter and tickle against his cheek. It feels so much like the innocent, childlike kisses they once shared-- but this one isn't given out of pity. There's nothing but love behind this embrace.

Five's entire body goes stiff in a way Diego and Luther had yet to coax from him. His eyes don't flutter shut, in fact they widen in surprise, staring directly at Allison even as her eyes close and she kisses him. He seems to have forgotten all manner of interaction, how kissing is supposed to go, even if he now had copious, _recent_ experience. 

He's maybe stiff for a moment too long, because Five can feel Allison begin to shift back and away, and it's only then that he responds. Hands curling around her back, Five leans into the kiss in a way that is pointedly not reminiscent of the childhood pecks he'd been afforded whenever she was feeling particularly charitable. His hands smooth over her lower back, pulling her close as he leans forward, eyes finally drifting shut as his mouth moves against hers. There's no biting, no feral hunger behind his gesture, but warmth and yearning, a kiss he'd practiced 100 times, just for her.

Allison is surprised, but she knows she probably shouldn't be. There's still some unconscious part of her mind that was viewing Five as the child she would give chaste kisses to. But with the press of his hands against her back, she's reminded he really is an adult, who was married and more than likely has some inclination of what he's doing. 45 years in a wasteland, he was bound to run into some porn at some point. Her cheeks burn hotly with the thought, and she swallows hard as she opens her mouth against him in silent invitation. 

It occurs to her that her bedroom door is wide open. Anyone could walk by and see them, but it doesn't occur to Five. Why would it? That's been the theme of his entire day so far. She shrugs her coat off and tosses it to the ground, her entire body feeling suddenly too warm as he tries his best to crawl on top of and inside of her, and when her hands return to him it's in full force, long nails tangling into his hair and holding there.

Five's body erupts in goosebumps that are visible up his neck and down his legs. When was the last time he had hands tangled in his hair like that? It's intoxicating, he can feel his heart beating in his throat, and Five urges himself close, only leaning back when Allison needs the room to make do without her jacket. He kisses her again, and again, slow and teasing before he finally presses his tongue into her mouth, summoned by her open lips, the quiet noise she made when she gasped.

He's not sure if this is too fast, too soon. The rest of his day had gone this way, and it usually ended with one person on top or the other, but it would be presumptuous to think Allison would turn out the same. For all the chaos of the siblings, she alone had stood with grace, her head held high. Vanya had tried, but her resolve had been tested differently and it showed. 

Briefly he pulls away, a half-smile on his lips. Five doesn't move far enough away to actually create distance, their breath still mingles in the space between their lips, and he places a few more slow, lingering kisses to her mouth before his eyes open, bright blue eyes catching deep brown, "Sorry," He says, his voice on the verge of cracking, he can feel it. Still, his voice is low, unwilling to break the moment, "got carried away..."

"Don't-- don't apologize," she's breathless with warmth, her voice creaky in her chest like a log on fire, smoldering and crackling. "I've got time, if you wanted to get carried away a little farther..."

His eyes catch hers with a different glint in them at that, and his lips twitch into a smirk, "Don't mind if I do," He mutters and leans in for another kiss, both hands raising to clasp her neck, thumbs on her jaw as he crowds into her space. It's embarrassing to have to straddle her like this, he'd had plans for their first time, and none of them had involved such a massive height differential on his end, but he's a creative sort. He can adapt. 

Urging her higher onto the bed, Five presses a flurry of kisses to her mouth, each growing progressively deeper in intensity and length, as if he was gently leading her up to the main event, teeth scraping across her lower lip-- but gently, with none of the fury and fervor he'd shared with Diego or the pent up emotion he'd expended on Luther. This was deliberate, intentional. Five pours adoration into each kiss, lost time for every last chaste, closed-mouth pity kiss she gave him in the halls of their home, every missed opportunity he'd spent decades reminiscing and hating himself for not taking proper advantage of. He was taking advantage now.

She gasps high and tight, the sound almost entirely in her nose as she falls back on the bed and takes him with her, dropping down onto her back. Her hair clouds up around her ears in bouncy curls. Her legs remain closed for now, with Five sitting astride her hips instead, but she can already feel a pesky warmth making its home there in her pristine lacy underthings. Just because she spent most of this morning on an airplane didn't mean she wouldn't dress to make herself feel nice. After dressing for the 60's for so long, it felt _nice_ to wear things that were risque, the likes of which didn't even exist in the mainstream back then, and _definitely_ wouldn't have been sold to a black woman if they did. Bless Ray's heart, but the kinkiest he ever got was letting Allison keep her heels on in bed. 

Untucking his shirt so she can touch his skin, her thumb grazes his belly and she breaks the kiss in order to pull his shirt up with a giddy smile. "I didn't know you had hair on your belly at this age," she remarks, trailing her long nail through the trail of hairs leading from his belly button down into his pants. "Even Luther was bald as a newborn up until the team split up."

"He was always a sore loser about that. Thought I was cheating," Five admits, voice clipped, breathless. There's wonder in the way her hands come into contact with his stomach and the scant hairs he'd cultivated there. He remembers when he first found them, preened and demeaned his brothers without. Incorrigible as ever, he'd taken every single opportunity for superiority and wielded it like a knife. Seeing them between Allison's beautiful, manicured hands was about as much of a hit in the gut as it could be. She was a _woman_. Five had baby hairs on his stomach. They weren't the same.

Still, Five laughs a little breathlessly as he tugs his own jacket off, tossing it to join Allison's in a heap on the floor and taking his sweater vest with it. Only glancing up did he see the door wide open, and just as soon as he was on top of Allison he was gone, appearing again at the door just long enough to close and lock it with a click that feels like it echoes in the quiet bedroom and hall. He's on top of her just a second later, legs straddling those beautiful hips and a hand on either side of her head. Five just looks at her in the face for a long time, chest raising in very controlled, very deep movements, before he smiles, "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this," he mutters, and kisses her again. 

He's slower now, draped over her as he was, and he doesn't bother trying to hold himself up too strictly, knowing his weight was little more than an inconvenience at this point to anyone, not just his brother, and his knee shifts from astride her hip to between her legs. He can feel the warmth of her and tries not to let it go to his head, even as his kisses turn just slightly urgent, dragging his lips up her jaw and down her throat, gentle and sweet.

She didn't expect her body to react as strongly as it does when Five nudges her thighs apart with his knees, or the flash of suffocating heat that claws up from her stomach to her chest and takes her by the throat when she feels him press against her core. It doesn't even feel like an intentional grind, just a passing glance of fabric against fabric, but it's enough for her to feel a literal _tide_ fill her panties, and she keens softly in her nose. 

Her wrap skirt is situated in such a way that even with her thighs apart, one half of the skirt still lays across her groin, giving Five only the slightest teasing glance of a strappy number she's wearing beneath as it arches around the meat of her hip-- bold for it to be black under a white dress, but Allison has never been anything but bold. She gives an involuntary, kittenish whimper when his mouth makes a track across the scar on her throat, still so sensitive even after all this time. 

"Five," she gasps, her voice cracking at the end into a breathy wheeze, and her thighs squeeze around his hips while her hands rake down his body to sink nails into his back. 

Such a simple, beautiful syllable has never been made more perfect than by the sigh Allison breathes with his name on it like a prayer. His stomach plunges as her knees pull him closer, and he realizes only belatedly what he'd done-- unintentionally suave, he can feel his bare knee hit lace, and he nearly chokes as it does, the entirely unfamiliar drag of fabric against skin spurring him on more, head dipping lower to mouth open kisses across her collarbone, tongue dragging into gentle dips where bone met skin. 

Five takes his time without realizing it, either oblivious or nonchalant to Allison's torment. One of his hands shifts from above her to hover, untouching, at her hip, like he's actually nervous to take this plunge. Of all his siblings, there were only two he had never properly fucked, and it was no coincidence that they both seemed to be of the female variety. His hand finds the thick, woolen bow tying her entire outfit together, and his fingers itch to pluck it open, yet he abstains.

His kisses drag back to her lips, gentle and short. "Can I touch you?" He asks breathlessly between kisses, "I mean, really," He clarifies, and there's no mistaking his intent. He presses his forehead against Allison's, eyes bright on hers.

"Please," Allison gasps, swallowing hard. She licks her lips, plumped as they were by their hungry kisses, and she lets her hands fall back beside her, crooked up at the elbows so only her fingertips are visible past the ends of her billowy sleeves. Her cheeks are flushed a dark rosy red and her eyes are lidded and soft as they look up at Five.

  
He doesn't hesitate. Deft fingers pluck at the heavy bow keeping her together, and he pulls it apart with another tender, deep kiss, tongue dipping into her mouth as he leans up just enough to push her dress aside. Five glances down, and all at once he goes still. He pulls away, leaning back on his heels, and for a moment just stares, speechless with wonder as the expanse of beautiful, tanned skin is revealed to him, overlaid with delicate black straps and lace, breasts slipping through the sheer fabric, belly raising and falling as frenzied as he felt.

Five can feel his mouth go dry, just as he feels his cock give a heavy jerk in his shorts. There's no anger on his face, or judgement, of course not-- simple awe, clear as day. If he had less tact his jaw would be dropped. As it is, he swallows hard, adam's apple bobbing, and cannot tear his eyes away from her breasts, her hips, all encased in that lace, "You..." He says, and doesn't finish his sentence, struck dumb for possibly the first time in his life.

"Too much?" Allison asks, closing one arm over her chest, the flowy sleeve covering most of her breasts from view. One of her knees lifts, embarrassed by the way Five is just _staring_ at her. She's used to being something nice to look at, she's cultivated her entire image, but there are certain people in her life that when _they_ look at her like that, she's filled with an intense fear that they'll find some single small flaw and then they'll _stop_ looking at her like that-- the people she most desperately wants to look at her the way Five is looking at her now.

"No," He says, and his hand snaps out before he can stop it, pushing her hand back and away, back down to the side of the bed. Her knee, too, Five presses his palm against, until she's laying flat and spread for him. His chest is rising and falling a bit quicker than he would like, an obvious tell to his predicament, and he shakes his head as if to clear the cobwebs that had formed. "You're perfect," He whispers, before leaning over her and kissing her hard, unable to speak, opting to show, not tell. 

Five is sure Allison must be able to feel the way his heart beats in his chest like a jackhammer, thudding so powerfully behind his sternum he swears he can feel the rhythm. His hands don't know where to start, grazing over her shoulder, down her chest, flitting across the band of her bra and instead flatting just beneath her ribs, laying in place so he can feel her breathing, as haggard as his own. Five swallows again, "You wear this to the airport?" He asks as a finger boldly goes to trace the little ribbon tied so daintily between her breasts, thumbs and fingers tracing under the wire supporting her, knuckles grazing her breast just barely.

"Yes," Allison answers breathlessly. Even though she hadn't really thought of it as any _thing_ at the time, anything past just wanting to feel confident as always, when Five says it like that she can't help but see the implications behind the gesture. To just be sitting on an airplane in lingerie like this... she feels another throb strike her between the legs. 

"Incredible," Five breathes. With his track record it could be taken as sarcasm, but there's nothing in his tone that belies such. Just quiet, infatuated awe, heavy and laden on his tongue. Five kisses her as his hand fully cups her breast through her bra, thumb grazing along the semi-pert nub he can feel as her nipple, marveling at how quickly hardens to a point under his finger, barely toying with her.

Their kisses are slow and deep, breathtaking and intimate, their breath mingling, their moans swallowed by the other. Meanwhile, Five's fingers move to graze and pinch, delicately, two fingers rolling her nipple between them as his head ducks back down to focus on her neck, licking a wet stripe and following with a kiss up her throat, his knee still pinning her to to the spot.

She gives an involuntary little whimper for his effort, a bright ping of pleasure sending goose bumps racing up her chest and down her arms, and she rolls her hips down so the soaking lace of her panties slide against the bare skin of her older brother's knee. She gasps into his mouth when he presses forward to meet her, her head snapping back and out of range when it lines up perfectly with another rough pinch to her nipple through the gauzy, sheer fabric of her bra, and both sources of pleasure crash into one another in the center of her stomach.

"Five!" she gasps, another fresh wave of slick gushing from her, and with his skin pressed so tightly against her he can _feel_ the way her pussy flutters for him. 

Five decides right then and there that he wants to hear that sound as often as Allison will let him. As if Luther wasn't enough, as if Diego was nothing, Allison's voice practically singing his name gives Five all the encouragement he needs to press himself flat against her, the chill of her slick against his knee not going unnoticed, just as the heavy bulge in his slacks can't go unnoticed as he grinds down to meet her hips, the weight of his fly meeting the curve of her hip. 

His hand finds the clasp of her bra at the front, hidden beneath that feminine ribbon. It takes one twist for him to pop her breasts free, and he lets out a low, warbling sigh as her breasts are bared to him for the first time, "Jesus, Allison," He whispers as if he were in agony, hitching his knee higher to grind against her delicate center as his mouth descends on her breasts, tongue dragging across pebbled flesh before teeth follow, a gentle graze, nothing painful-- and then he sucks, mouth closing over her nipple in its entirely, tongue and teeth holding still, one hand holding him above her, the other settled on her hip to pin her in place, rooting her down and against his knee, giving her no option for squirming-- and if she did, well, at least she had something very sturdy and willing to be squirmed against.

He can feel it when she starts to shake, the tremors starting first in her shoulders before traveling down to her belly, as one hand reaches up to rake fingers through his hair and hold him to her breast, while her other hand reaches up to curl loosely over her own mouth. She has to be some kind of depraved lunatic for having been married twice, and yet the wettest she's ever been is for her older brother. 

Her hips bounce shallowly down against Five's knee, and when she feels his cock grind against her hip she uncovers her mouth and reaches down instead to wedge her hand between them. She finds the button of his shorts and pops it, and then fits her hand down past the band of his briefs to touch him for the first time. Surprised by the size of him, she closes her hand around his cock with a plaintive moan, her long nails catching in the wispy hair at the base of his length. 

There's a quiet, wet pop as Five disengages long enough to press his forehead into her chest, able to feel her heatbeat through the delicate skin across her chest. Her hand circles him and Five's cock twitches hungrily in her grasp, lurching into her hand eagerly. Hung as he was, he still had the constitution of a younger man, although Five's ironwrought willpower helped, somewhat. It seemed to know to hold as true here, as his stomach bottoms out and he can feel himself clenching all over, stifling the overeager urge to make a mistake that would end this far, far too soon.

When he returns it's with gusto, his mouth capturing her breast again as his hand slips from her hip to slide across the first strap of her lace thong, dipping beneath the elastic to rub warm lines where the material had sat, slipping further and further in as his mouth switches sides, sucking her other breast into his mouth without hesitation as his hand explores, settling just above her cunt, fingers combing through the slick he finds there before he pulls away, mouth and all, to tuck those fingers into his mouth to taste her, looking her in the eye even as his hips stutter forward. He sucks them clean, tongue grazing over his lips as he swallows, eyes burning as they find Allison's again. Leaning back, Five's hands both drift to her panties and he hooks his fingers in them, pulling them off pointedly without permission and revealing her fully to him-- And perhaps most importantly the mess he'd made of her, thighs and cunt shiny with wet. 

He licks his lips, his thumbs dragging through the small tuft of hair at her peak, voice low as he leans forward, "I'm going to eat you out, okay?" A weird amalgamation of a question and statement of fact, as his hands smooth up her hips.

"Oh my god," she answers instead of any sort of real affirmation, her cheeks and ears burning up. Finally she nods, spreading her legs a little farther for him, and she lifts her feet up to perch on the mattress-- letting Five see that she is, indeed, still wearing her heels strapped prettily to her feet. With her dress still looped over her arms and open around her bare body, she looks properly debauched.

A half-smirk tugs at Five's mouth, and he can't help himself, "Not yet," He murmurs, "Save it," He tells the woman already praising their lord and savior-- and he hadn't even gotten started. Her hips raising for him makes him half groan, and he slips down the bed like man in church, arms curling around her hips and pulling her down to meet him as he settles her thighs over his shoulders. 

He buries her nose against the soft, untouched skin of her hip, wet with her own heat, thick with sweat it smells almost animalistically like Allison here. This must have been what the books meant when they talked about humans being animals still, because there was nothing more Five wanted to do than tear into her and claim her as his. Instead, he takes a heavy breath, dragging his tongue across that sensitive joint just to taste her, face moving to bury his nose in that delicate patch of hair. 

"God, Allison, I'd dreamed, but I never thought.." he admitted, perhaps the most complimentary he had been with anyone, ever, in his entire life-- and how could he not be? She was a vision enshrouded in cream-colored cotton, stunning and brilliant in every possible way. Five wastes no time. Tucking his shoulders higher under her her hips, he buries his mouth against her, tongue out to gather every last drop of spilled slick he dare not waste.

She _shouts_. Her head slams back against the pillow and she reaches down to grab him by the hair with one hand, covering her mouth with the other as she remembers that there are indeed other people in the house. A lot of other people, in fact. She doubts any of them would be up near the bedrooms at this time of day, but just in case she'd rather they not hear her sob while their oldest brother eats her like a meal. 

Her thighs squeeze and tremble around his ears, hips rocking up to meet his mouth and her toes flexing over the ends of her strappy pumps, curling tight. His tongue feels like velvet against her, exploratory and tender. She knows this is most likely the first time he's ever actually gone down on a woman, so she was prepared to be gentle with her judgement of his performance-- but either he's a genius at this naturally like he is at almost everything else he does, or he really went to town on that mannequin. 

"Fvvvee---" she whines, muffled in her palm, the flush spreading down her chest where her breasts are pushed together by her arms. She's pretty sure she can already feel a record-breaking orgasm curling somewhere deep inside her, ready to barrel forward without nearly as much build-up as she'd usually need. 

That shout alone lights a deep, deep hunger n Five's gut that seems to set him off like a match. One hand raises to spread her open, positively lewd as she twitches and clenches, trying to shut herself to such prying eyes with no success, and he only allows her to flutter for an appreciative minute before he returns to her, dragging his tongue up the delicately soft folds, lapping tongueful after tongueful of her as he traces her hungrily, making circuits around her hole, drawing a line around her clit-- and then he finds that nub, hard and erect and twitching with a jerk so strong it takes her entire hips with her every time she does. 

It's there that Five makes his home. The warmth of his mouth curls around her pert clit, cheeks hollowing as he sucks and drags, his tongue flicking over the nub as his thumbs curl under her thighs. He holds her apart, thumbs prying open her core enough to make her flutter, but never cold-- his body radiates warmth like a man possessed as Five's tongue goes flat against her core and drags up, intoxicated with taking every last drop he can from her.

A pleased rumble leaves the back of his throat like a sated lion, a half-growl that has his shoulders hunching and his thumbs slipping further, until the tips of them both delve shallowly into her dripping canal, pulling even that delicate, hypersensitive place apart so that when his tongue makes a long pass from taint to clit, it actually manages to dip inside, curling up and in, delving into the spot that made her shake and leaning back in time to see how she jerks in response, twisting like a leaf on the breeze.

The sincerity with which he eats her gets to her almost more than the deed itself. There's no shyness or shame, no judgement or teasing, he just systematically takes her apart as if for the sole purpose of looking forward to putting her back together again after. Clenching her teeth shut so she can reach down and hold onto his hair with both hands, she turns to tuck her nose against her shoulder as she rocks her hips up to meet his mouth. 

Every noise that leaves her now is a painful little squeak wrenched out of her by force alone, her teeth clenched and bared and her brows folded together as she's nudged ruthlessly towards release with every swipe of Five's tongue. His mouth closes over her clit again, and in just a few rough sucks she tumbles over the edge with an embarrassingly small sound. Her hands pull at his hair, tugging his face down to meet her as her hips thrust up against his tongue, and her legs lift up off the bed and shake around his ears, gripping them tightly while her whole body shakes through it. 

He's able to open his eyes for a moment just to see her folded up around him like an envelope, closing in on him from all sides like she wants to protect him, while also coming apart into pieces from the stroke of his mouth. It's one of the most gratifying experiences he's ever had-- and he's saved the world _twice_. 

The warmth around his head makes him dizzy, his brain going fuzzy as he's fully engulfed in the most he could ever smell of her. The thick perfume of come dribbling from her core, overlaid with the delicate perfume she'd put on this morning before her flight, with no idea the scent would go muddy with sweat and animalistic musk. To Five, though, it's possibly the best bouquet he could ever imagine, and he sucks it in greedily, wrapped up in her and allowing her to rock through her orgasm as he feels her cunt clenching around his tongue and fingers. 

Five allows her to come back from orbit with a plethora of fleeting kisses across her hips, her belly, anywhere he can reach her in this tightened position, supporting her with his hands and smoothing away any cramps or aches that might come as she does. His scalp burns where she pulls, a feeling that shines clarity in the dark cavern she'd created, and he can feel his cock twitching, lurching. What he wouldn't give to dip inside of her now, to feel those same quivering walls clutching around him and to drive into her like he'd imagined so many times.

Unfortunately for Allison (and maybe himself), he wasn't done with her, yet.

The tremors turn to trembles, the jerks to twitches, and once Allison lays back on the bed, Five looks up at her rather cheekily between her legs, catlike grin smug as his fingers continue to press and smooth over her taut skin until she seems thoroughly calmed down, "Wanna see if Luther has super hearing, too?" He asks curiously, but doesn't wait for an answer.

He dives back onto her. If he had no sympathy before, there's no universe where he had it, now. He licks the wetness that had slipped from her through her orgasm, devouring it as his tongue begins to dive almost solely into her hole. His nose nudges against her click with every hungry lick, and Five holds her hips to his face like a man holding a lifeline. He swallows around her, continues eating her, ignoring the trembling that still wracks her thighs.

Two fingers raise, slipping through her slit and settling just barely at the opening of her cunt, their pressure firm but only the tips delving inside, and only when his mouth moves away long enough to allow them access. When his tongue dips up to flatten against her clit again, a lewd sucking noise causes his cheeks to hollow, and those two fingers plunge inside without any bit of warning, curling up as his tongues flat and persistent, allowing her no peace, nor time to wind down.

It's cruel, because she _does_ shriek when his mouth reconnects with her. So quickly after cumming her entire pussy feels numb and hypersensitive at once, like every sensation is delayed by a couple seconds before being amplified thrice over. Her hands claw at his hair, scraping against his scalp and sending lightning bolts of pleasure down his spine as she simultaneously tugs him against her while her hips try to shrink away from him, overwhelmed by pleasure. 

Sobbing and oversensitive, her thighs alternate between shaking and clenching around his head, and then spreading to press her heels into the bed so she can arch and thrust up against his mouth. Even Ray who had been an attentive lover stopped after the first round, this is driving her completely mad. 

"Fuck! Five!" She shouts his name outright, unthinking. If there's anyone in the halls there will be absolutely no question as to what's taking place behind Allison's locked door, but she isn't even thinking about that. She _can't_ think about that. Every thought is wiped out of her brain by Five's fingers thrusting into her and his mouth sealed around her. "Five-- FIVE-- oh jesus oh my god baby it's too much it's _too much_ \--"

She claims that, and yet she holds him by his hair in such a vice that he would have to teleport to get away. Despite her protestations, Five doesn't slow or offer even an inch of empathy or compassion. His fingers curl into her, this finally an area where he needs experience. One can read about eating a woman out as much as he had, but when it comes to actual practice, one needs a willing form-- and Allison, despite her words, seemed plenty willing, if the wet noise of her cunt around his fingers was anything to be believed, or the way her nails practically tore his hair out by the root to get him to stay in one place.

They hook forward, against the rough wall of her hole, the pads of his fingers pressing her open and pulling her apart as they scissor and twist, his mouth continuing to flatten and suck at her clit, only taking breaks to suck in quick gulps of air through his nose which he blows out in heavy pants against her skin. He could stay here for the rest of his life, he realizes, the perfect reward for life imperfectly led, his ears going deaf with each tight clench of powerful thighs around his head. 

Five grinds the heel of his palm into her, his fingers striking deep as he buries himself to the knuckle, wrist ratcheting into her as his fingers crook and smooth, milking her in long, even strokes, pulling her apart by the seams with absolutely no mercy.

The feeling of having something inside her is almost agony it feels so good. The frictionless press of fingers, even if they're not very big fingers, is enough to push her over the edge a second time. Where last time she barely made a sound, this time she sobs, head tipped back and overcome. The room is filled with the sound of her wailing, and tears trail down her cheeks as her entire body shakes with it. 

It lasts longer than the previous one, Five's clumsy stimulation to her g-spot spreading the pleasure through her whole body, and he sits back just to watch her writhe as the aftershocks do the rest of the work for him. She shudders and twists, her breasts bouncing and her belly flexing as she soaks directly into the blankets with a series of high-pitched, staccato little shrieks. 

Just as she seems to be calming down, the quivering of her thighs relaxing and her breathing deepening into a raw gasping, his head dips down a third time. His tongue drags up across her just once and it feels too much like an icy dagger of pleasure to be comfortable, too sharp and oversensitive and she finds his hair again, this time to pull him back.

"Too-- much--" she says, gasping for air. She's going to lose her voice again at this rate. 

This time Five _does_ seem to take pity on her, her thighs clamping shut on instinct a bit of a clue he could otherwise have done without. He leans back, sitting back on his heels, happy to watch her tremble and twitch, every inward breath making her entire body shake with the effort it took. His lips are shiny with her slick, his chin and cheeks wet even as he brings his hand up to wipe at himself, inspecting the shine left on his palm curiously. 

His smile looks a little reckless, a little wild, his eyes bright as he looks her over, obnoxiously pleased with himself and with his work, "If I'd known you sounded like that when you come it would have been the first thing on my to do list when I got home," Five murmurs, voice a low, smug rumble in his chest as he stretches out beside her, letting her have her space even as his hand flattens against her gasping stomach. 

"Let me know when you can talk again," Five adds with a devilish grin, eyes bright with mirth. Judging by the full bulge in his slacks, this wasn't over-- He was just glad he'd been so engulfed in Allison that he hadn't had time to pay attention to his own pleasure. For once, his tunnel vision came in handy.

"You--" she gasps out, swatting him on the chest between deep inhales for air. She raises a hand to cover her face, her sleeve blanketing most of her body in the process, and she gives a little whimper of a sob that turns into a full-body laugh as she's overwhelmed with affection and emotion for the smug little shit laying beside her. 

Instead of finishing her sentence, she swings a leg over him and perches herself on his lap, very intentionally letting her fluids soak into the front of his shorts in retaliation for how thoroughly he'd ruined her. He seems particularly small flattened under her like this but she likes the feeling of power it gives her. Her dress remains clinging to her like a robe, looped around her elbows and hanging draped across the middle of her back as she plucks open the final couple buttons of his shirt and spreads her hands on his chest. 

Cupping his jaw with one hand, she runs her thumb across his lower lip, swollen from his efforts, and draws her hair in a bundle over her shoulder with the other. "You're so handsome," she tells him softly, her voice crackling in her throat. "I was such an idiot for not appreciating you when I had the chance."

"What is it with girls and tall blondes?" Five asks, forcing himself not to simperingly lean into her palm and close his eyes, as if this was a beautiful dream he could prolong. He wants to, god knows he did, but he forced himself to look up at her eyes, the flush of her cheeks, the beautiful curve of her breasts. Just looking at her poised above him made him hungry deep in his stomach again, so much so that he actually drags his tongue over his lip, a predator looking at its favorite meal.

His hands raise to smooth over her hips, and he leans forward just a bit to cup her ass with his hands, excited for the day when he could grab her with hands that befit her size. He couldn't touch her enough as it was, couldn't perfectly hold her, but he knew his time would come. Give it a few months, maybe a year.

Chest raising slowly and steadily, Five forces himself to maintain his composure for long enough to huff a low breath through his nose, chin tilting up to look at her even as his hands squeeze the supple flesh of her ass, perfectly filling his hands and then some. She's warm against him, almost too warm, and the new sensation of her on top of him reminds Five all too well of the very prominent issue still burning deep in his gut. His eyes flash down just briefly, taking in where his cock meet her cunt, separated only by the cruel wool of his shorts. Damn them. 

"Besides," Five starts slowly, eyes tracking a burning line up Allison's body as his eyes move up, catching on her face, "You can make it up to me."

"Oh, can I?" Allison laughs softly and leans down over him with one hand, her breasts hanging close to his face so she can reach back with one hand and properly pull him out of his shorts. "Thank you for the _privilege_ , Mr. Hargreeves."

Sitting back again she takes a moment to just admire the size of him in her hand. It's an impressive size for his frame, a more than respectable five inches, and she can't help but wonder hungrily whether he's done growing. She rubs the tip briefly with her thumb before reaching between her own legs, her hand re emerging shiny with her own slick, which she uses to coat him. The filthiness of the gesture is not lost on him. 

Lifting up onto her thighs, she positions himself over him, and she can see the terrified, excited gleam in his eye. She has no doubt this will be his first time inside a woman, and despite her jokes it really _is_ a privilege to be the first. She sinks down onto him with a sigh, her eyes fluttering shut as her numb insides are woken up by the slick drag of iron into flesh. Settling on top of his thighs with a soft groan, she flexes her pussy around him testing the comfortable girth. He feels like the perfect size inside her, truly. 

"Holy--" the word leaves Five before he can even hope to stop it, the impossible feeling of her sitting onto his cock a different experience than anything he had ever even imagined. His time in the wastes had proved an effort of creativity if nothing else, and reading material was plentiful for a lone survivor, but all the flowery description of romance novels or the crass recollection of nudie mags didn't hold up nearly as well as the real thing.

His hands raise before he can stop it, fingers shifting from her ass to her hips, his knuckles white as he holds her still for a long moment. She flexes around him and drags an actual, audible breath from his throat. Five's knuckles are white as he holds her still, nails biting slightly into caramel flesh, leaving crescent moons in their wake as he seems capable of holding on-- and only holding on. 

Bright green eyes stare, half-unseeing, up at Allison, lips wet and open in an inaudible gasp. He can't breathe, he can't think. There was no last time when he felt anything comparable to this, the bliss of being sheathed in such fluid warmth striking deep in his chest so hard it nearly makes him sick, " _Christ_ , Allison," Five actually hisses, finishing the sentence he started three minutes ago.

"Likewise," she murmurs, her voice hoarse and soft. She leans up on her knees and drops back down, and just that single thrust sends a shock of pleasure up her spine that takes her breath away. She repeats the motion, lifting up and dropping back down, swiftly picking up speed as she goes.

Honestly, she'd been fully expecting to be content with whatever Five had to give. What mattered more was their connection, over the size of his instrument. But she's pleasantly surprised to find that he's big enough to really make her feel it, to the point she feels more satisfied now than with either of her previous husbands, both of whom had been full grown men. She knows it must have something to do with the emotions attached to this.

Five is someone she's known her entire life. Someone she's missed for decades. Five is someone she trusted before she even trusted herself. Her stomach aches with the tenderness she feels for the older man laying prone under her. 

Five replies to her murmur with a breathless laugh, tilting his head back as she begins to set a pace that strikes stars into his eyes and makes his face tilt up in a enamored arc. He hadn't been ready, hadn't encouraged her to move, she'd just taken the initiative. Usually that puts a sour taste in his mouth, the audacity of his family for doing something without his consent. But, in this instance, he could offer some leniency. She was, after all, fucking the very soul out of his body.

Regaining some semblance of sanity as a proper pace is established, Five is able to run his hands up her body, lovingly caressing every inch of skin. From the faint bruising his teeth had left at her chest down to her back and ass, he strokes and whispers his fingers across the graceful skin of here, all while his hips begin to rock forward as he drives down. Guiding her to a grind, Five yanks Allison's hips down to his with unintentional severity, groaning as his cock sheaths itself fully inside and her hips roll against his.

Her cunt flutters around him, tightening and loosening, and Five holds her in place as his hips stutter to fuck into her with vigor, head leaning back into the pillows that smelled like her, enthralled by every little thing about her-- "Come here," He demands, and his hands shift to her back, pulling her down to capture her lips in a scathing kiss as his hips continue to ratchet into her, instinct driving him forward, deeper.

While she's technically stronger than him physically, she doesn't even try to resist him when he moves and holds her, obeying every touch of his hands like she's under a mind control spell of her own. She hunches over him to meet his mouth, and moans against his lips as the new angle gives him the space to thrust up into her, their skin slapping together.

"Five," she gasps into his mouth, rolling her hips in shallow little circles to meet his thrusts. "Good-- that's so good, you're so _good_ baby don't stop, don't stop." As if he would. As if he _could_. She's just babbling, not even hearing her own words she's so overwhelmed with pleasure.

Arms wrap around Allison's lower back, pulling her down flush with his chest, his palm flattening against her tailbone. He encourages her hips onto his, pulls her down to meet his own thrusts as he plunges into her again, and again, drawn by an instinct he thought he had better control over.

Five considers himself a gentleman. An intellectual. He'd gone years without sex, only resorting to it out of absolute, distracted necessity-- but now, swallowed by Allion's cunt, cock finding home in the heat of her folds, he realized he'd have to rethink that statement. Frankly, Allison would be lucky if she got another uninterrupted night of sleep for the foreseeable future. 

He swallows her noises as she does his, their mouths open and hungry as his stuttering reaches a frenzied staccato and his voice turns less demanding and more into an embarrassingly high-pitched whine. "Allison, Allison--" He whispers with some urgency, "I need to--" It's clear he's holding on by a thread, "Should I-- Pull out--" It took a physical effort to form those words, nonethless a sentence, but still, he managed.

"Birth control," she gasps out, threading her fingers into his hair, her nails scratching at the nape of his neck. "You don't have to pull out-- don't pull out, please."

Is she begging her own brother to cum inside her? God, she is, isn't she? She doesn't even feel the slightest bit guilty for it, either. 

"Thank god," Five pulls Allison into another kiss, teeth clicking against teeth as he fills her mouth with his tongue to taste her one last time. It's then that he comes, every sense engulfed in her, sight, touch, smell, taste joining in one perfect crescendo of Allison. 

He pins her flat against him and with only a few more thrusts he slams into her so hard he can feel their hips bruise together, spilling inside of her with a filthy moan into her mouth, gutteral and low in his chest, reverberating outward from his core as his toes curl. Five's entire body lurches as he comes, hard and fast and without another word able to be uttered, a hand finding her hair and fisting in the heavy curls, the rest of the world falling away, leaving only them.

Her nerves, which she'd thought for sure would be much too tired to be coaxed to another orgasm, prove her wrong. It's the hand in her hair and the tongue in her mouth that tip her right over that precipice, and she comes nearly in unison with him, her pussy fluttering and clenching around him, weary muscles gripping him as tight as they dare. 

They come down together, soft and slow and sleepy, and Allison rolls off of Five to lay beside him rather than just flop her full weight on top of him. She still is much bigger than him, after all. She rolls onto her side up against him, resting her head on his shoulder and tracing her hand up and down his chest and belly where sweat has accumulated. 

"That... without a doubt was the best sex I've ever had," she croaks, unashamed, and kisses the side of Five's neck. 

Five allows it, dropping one of his hands from her hips to let her roll away, the other trapped beneath her. He doesn't care, doesn't even try to move his arm in time. His consciousness is somewhere in the stratosphere, somewhere on another plane of existence as he swears he astral projected and is watching his body above, curled with a woman he adores in their childhood home. 

"With age comes wisdom," Five murmurs exhaustedly as he turns just his head to look at her. His usual smile is tight-lipped and insincere, but the one he gives Allison now is different. Softer at the edgies, lazier, the quirk of his kittenish mouth as his eyelids half-close, encasing his sister in a beautiful, golden haze as the afternoon sun bathes her in light streaming from the window. 

The hand trapped beneath her curls to tug fingers through the gentle curls across her lower back. Five can feel the deep, bone aching exhaustion as it begins to settle in his core. What a day. Magnificent as it was, he was beginning to feel like even his hormone-fueled body could keep up with demand, and two orgasms in such short succession were making it harder and harder for him to stay conscious. 

"I've been planning that for, oh," Five murmurs, his voice barely audible in the suddenly oppressive silence of the room, "50 years? Give or take," The dreamy smile had yet to leave him.

She laughs softly, and tips her head down to kiss him. "Your planning paid off in spades, five. You look like you're about to pass out," she tells him softly. "Do you want to port back to your room? I should probably strip this bed... it could use a change of sheets after all that."

His face screws up with a frown, and he opens his eyes-- Though it takes an obvious, intentional effort, "Alone?" Five scoffs, "Don't be ridiculous." And he's gone, only to return a few minutes later-- Disheveled and clearly fucked out beyond belief, barely able to stay on his two feet, bearing new sheets in his arms, shirt and tie undone and fly down, though he must have tucked himself back in at some point, fortunately. Heavily, he sets them on the table and gestures for Allison to move, not waiting for her to get off of the bed as he begins to undo it, his fingers clumsy and slower than he'd like. But god was he trying.

"Five," she clicks her tongue, but honestly, she lets him have this. Rolling off the bed, she closes her dress around her with less care than before and ties a lazy knot at her front, before moving to help him pull up the blankets and sheets. After the couple of weeks he's had, and the forty-some years of hell before then, she's sure he would relish the opportunity to do something as mundane as changing sheets. 

Working together, they've cleaned up the bed in no time, with fresh blankets and her pillows fluffed, and they sit on the edge together, Five looking like he's about to pass out on the spot. She guides him to lean into her with a hand under his chin, and turns to rest her nose on top of his head. The mistake she'd made with Luther again and again was to never define what they had, to let it constantly slip away. It took them decades to finally pin down a name for their relationship, but she refuses to take the long way a second time. 

"I'm so happy you're home, Five," she whispers, curling and uncurling her fingers at the base of his neck, playing with his hair. "I never thought of myself as a woman who would have multiple lovers before, but I don't think I could live my life without you, now that I have you."

That painfully warm feeling in his chest seems to encapsulate more and more of him the more he hears it. Every time a family member thanks him for coming back, every time a sibling calls him their lover, a feeling so painful it feels like dying settles deep in his stomach. He's not sure what it's an ache of: sadness of having left, remorse for putting his family through such pain, or regret over not growing old with them. It burned too bright to be any of those, though. 

Five identifies the feeling as happiness. A happiness so warm it burned a whole in his chest, right through his sternum. Sad, that he doesn't recognize the sensation of happiness at first glance.

A smile pulls at one of the corners of his lips, and despite his exhaustion, he can't help himself. Spurred by the warmth ringing love, love, love in his ear, Five's hand finds Allison's jaw and he kisses her again, slowly and sweetly, eyes drifting shut as he pours himself into it, "You won't have to," He promises, his voice rough with emotion he works so hard to beat down. Five pulls away to look Allison in the eye, hand still cradling her cheek and hair, bright green eyes meeting deep brown. "I'm never leaving this family again. _You_ , again," And he presses another kiss to her lips, pressing his forehead to hers.

She gives a wet, joyful laugh through tears, and leans into him, even though she knows he can't really support her full weight. She knows for a fact that he doesn't mind trying. 


	4. Klaus

"Alright, well, we need a tiebreaker then," Luther says resolutely. 

"Ohhh my _god_ aren't we stinking ugly rich?" Klaus complains. "Why can't we get pizza _and_ chinese?"

"Just go find out what Five would prefer," Diego says from his spot on the couch.

"And I'll find Vanya," Allison offers. 

"Okay, just for the record, all three of you suck," Klaus informs them before turning on his heel to begin the hunt for Five. 

He doesn't really look that hard. After all, he can just say Five's vote is also for pizza, and provided Vanya doesn't also tie them (which would honestly be her style) then he'll get his way regardless of what Five actually wanted. He just needs to linger in the hallways long enough to make it seem like he actually found him and asked. 

However, when his wanderings take him upstairs, he hears a soft snoring in Five's room, and checks the clock on the wall. Sure enough, it's six pm, and he's snoozing away. He tries the door knob and finds it locked, but that's no match for Klaus' superior sneakery. He pulls a couple bobby pins out of his pocket and within a couple seconds, pops the lock on Five's door and lets himself in. 

Five is curled up in bed, under a heavy quilt, with most of his clothing strewn across the floor. Shirt, shorts, socks, tie and sweater vest all carelessly left on the ground. Klaus makes a mental note to get Five to go clothes shopping with him or something, because the sight of that old uniform sucks every time. 

He grins to himself as he lifts the covers and crawls into bed, taking up the slot further from the wall and opposite where Five has nested up, sighing obnoxiously as he gets himself comfortable beside his brother. 

Five's sleep had been blissful. His life seemed to be entirely comprised of naps lately, his sleep schedule effectively destroyed by years of being forced on the run and two weeks of continuous, constant activity. Coffee had, as it had always been, his own refuge. He was just glad he was back in a reality that allowed him fresh quantities of the stuff whenever he wanted-- especially now that dear old dad's ban on caffeine was lifted, mostly by the demand of Five himself. 

As a growing boy, Five had needed his sleep. Later, he would look back and consider what scant few hours of sleep he managed to get as blissful, albeit short lived. Having just slipped into a state deep enough to be considered REM, one can imagine his frustration when his internal alarm began to scream WAKE UP, WAKE UP, WAKE UP. 

For the past half century, Five had lived in a state of constant alert. It’s that instinct that takes over now as his eyes shoot open as soon as he even subconsciously feels the bed dip down to accommodate another body, warmth that was not his own seeping into his bones. Facing the wall, the rest of his body goes stiff as a board, eyes wide open, staring at nothing.

He thinks before he acts, and his guest is the one fortunate for it; a lesser man with an itchier trigger finger would have ended in the other with a knife in their chest, or worse. It’s a point of pride for Five, who had only recently learned the meaning of restraint.

"The door was locked for a _reason_ ," Five says without turning around. Rationale would say there was only one person who would both be able to pick the lock and be willing to crawl into bed with him: and it sure as fuck wasn't Diego. Five still doesn't turn around as he continues, "What do you _want_ , Klaus."

"To cuddle," Klaus croons, curling up behind Five with a self-satisfied little smirk, and he loops an arm over Five's waist. "Remember when we were kids and I used to get so cold all the time? You always let me cuddle up with you."

"I wasn't aware that still happened," Five deadpans, looking down at the arm around his waist. Honestly, with how deep he felt his exhaustion, he had half a mind to allow it. He still doesn't turn around, also not bothering to disengage the arm. 

"Heated blankets and crying myself to sleep," Klaus sighs wistfully, rubbing his cold nose on the back of Five's neck just to prove a point.

Five hisses, the cold shocking his system and ruining whatever haze of sleep he was happily allowing himself to coast on, "Then maybe you should go back to it, since it worked out so well for you all these years." He mutters, twisting around to fix Klaus with a glare over his shoulder.

Klaus grins when Five turns so they're nose to nose, and he moves his face from side to side in a little eskimo kiss. "All cried out, I'm afraid," he says. His breath smells like doritos. "I was too busy crying over the end of The Room again, you know the part where Johnny shoots himself? Rips my heart out every time. A true american cinematic classic. I don't think I could spare a tear to soothe my aching heart to sleep. I'm afraid you'll just have to big spoon me again like you did when we were little. Or I guess you'd be more of a jet pack now, wouldn't you?"

Very rarely does Five find himself in a good mood, but somehow Klaus is always the one to bring out the worst in him-- and yet, of them all, it was arguably Klaus with whom he had the closest relationship growing up, second only to Vanya. Even now his voice holds none of the acerbic acid he would usually offer Diego or Luther when they displease him. This was barely even bickering, for them. It could practically be called foreplay, considering their history.

"I don't suppose you have an 'Off' switch we never knew about growing up?" Five's eyes narrow at the short joke, his temper worn exceptionally thin, "It would really make my day to find out dad did some experiments on you too, for the greater good. I'll gladly press it if it means you stop talking."

"Oh, yeah I've got an off switch," Klaus grins. "It's called choking me unconscious. Everyone's got one, wanna see?" he teasingly tickles a single finger along the side of Five's neck.

Five pulls himself away from Klaus with a dramatic roll of his eyes, "You say that like I wouldn't love an excuse. Go ahead, keep testing me," He pushes back a bit from his brother, his back flush with the wall, but doesn't dare turn his back on him. He knows far better than to do that.

Honestly, it feels like no time at all has passed. Sure, Klaus wasn't as much of a shitheel when they were this age together, his charming attitude and sharp wit have developed with age and cynicism. But still, they would playfully bicker when they were kids. It was one of the quickest ways Klaus could get Five to put him in his place-- annoy him until he broke. After all, any attention for young Klaus was good attention, and nobody had ever taught him how to seek positive attention when negative was all that was reinforced growing up. 

Ech, depressing to think about. Instead, he scoots forward to make up the difference between himself and his brother. He's not even really expecting Five to retaliate, it just feels so blissfully _normal_ to annoy Five again. Like they're right back there again. Like Ben hadn't died, like the world hadn't ended, like he'd never met and lost Dave. Like things are okay again. 

"Okay, what's six times eight?" he asks, flicking five directly in the belly button underneath the blankets. Five isn't wearing a shirt, it's strewn on the ground, but how Klaus managed to hit him dead center without even looking is uncanny. 

Five doesn't have time to wonder about Klaus' surprising accuracy, because his hand snatches out before he can stop it and grabs the larger man by the wrist, twisting his hand-- and the wrist he carried in it-- under the covers as he glares daggers at him, anger pouring off of him in droves. 

"You still haven't learned to ask, have you?" He says, eyes narrowing in an annoyed squint, "I'm sure Diego would love the chance to get his hands around your throat. Why don't you ask him?" Five snaps and throws Klaus' wrist back at him under the covers, "I'm trying to sleep. I'm sure amongst all the drugs and paranoia you're unfamiliar with the concept, but I would actually like to get some like a normal human being for once, so if you're done asking me basic arithmetic, I'd love to get back to it."

" _Ow_ ," Klaus gives an overdramatic pout, clutching his wrist to his chest, and he sniffles with big, overblown puppy eyes. "The answer's forty eight, by the way," he simpers.

"I don't care," Five says loudly and dramatically, pulling the blanket up to his chin and closing his eyes, content in the knowledge that he knows full fucking well what six times eight is, "Good _night_ , Klaus."

"Oh, come on! Did the wasteland suck all the fun out of you, or what?" Klaus protests, reaching out to tug on Five's ear, pinch his cheek and squeeze his nose, all trying to get a reaction out of the man who is resolutely keeping his eyes closed in an effort to bore Klaus into submission. "What about in the office that one time, huh? We had fun back then, didn't we? With that guy with the eyes--"

He cuts off when he glances instinctively down at where he'd given Five a split lip in their effort to intimidate the man into giving them the information they needed, and to his surprise, he sees just the slightest hint of discoloration left on Five's lip where it had been left. 

All at once it reminds Klaus that while he's had years between apocalypses and little deaths of his own, for Five, that day in the office was barely two weeks ago. An existential sort of dread grips Klaus by the chest as he realizes this and he swallows hard, suddenly silent and pensive as he stares at that spot on Five's lip, his brows furrowed.

"What," Five's voice is clipped as the room goes silent. Unless Klaus developed the ability to teleport in his absence, the other man was still sharing his bed, which meant he'd gone silent for another reason-- never a good sign when it came to Klaus, who could literally be planning anything under the Sun. He doesn't bother opening his eyes when he says it.

Suddenly the sharpness in Five's voice is painful, not fun. Suddenly the subject of annoying Five leaves him with a guilty queasiness in his chest, instead of playful giddiness. Five's barely had a chance to rest. While Klaus had three years to wait until his brother found him again in the 60's before having another harrowing week, Five went straight from the frying pan into the fire. 

And here Klaus is, bothering him with childish flicks and quizzes. God, he feels like an ass.

"Nothing," he says, sounding miserably _sad_ as he says it, even in his own ears, and he sits up to start taking his leave. He probably _should_ just let Five rest. 

Five can feel his stomach twist unpleasantly as the bed dips and shifts, sagging then raising as Klaus actually gets out of his bed. There was something wrong, though. It wasn't the flippant retreat of man thoroughly ignored, in no small part because Five hadn't actually gotten around to ignoring him, yet. If it wasn't that, then there was something else at play, and Five didn't like things playing without his permission.

"What," He repeats, annoyance in his voice leaving no room for denial as his eyes open. He's still laying on his side, one hand supporting his head under the pillow, but his eyes catch the back of Klaus' shoulder blades. "You're giving up that easy?" He asks, sounding doubtful.

"I don't wanna play anymore," Klaus says guiltily, sitting on the edge of the bed and shaking a hand through his shaggy hair. There's a pounding in his chest he can't withstand, it's making him feel sick. "Do you think I should get a haircut?"

Five stifles the urge to sigh, heavily, pushing himself up despite his tired bones wanting nothing more than to remain horizontal, tired as they were, "No," He says after a second, "This suits you more. Is this a new tactic? _Guilting_ me into choking you?" He raises an eyebrow, "Gotta say, that's a new one."

"No, I'm not--" Klaus starts, and then sighs, and he turns halfway back around to look at Five, his eyes still focused on his lips. Instinct tells him to run, to hide from vulnerability, to shy away from softness. To put up his defenses and block any attempt at genuine connection with witty barbs and playful nonchalance. A few years ago, he would have fallen exactly into that trap, but since losing Dave, since admitting his fraudulence openly to people who looked up to him most (even if it hadn't gone over as planned, the effort it took to attempt was nothing short of gargantuan) he finds that the energy it takes to dodge human emotion is often more exhausting than just knuckling up and barreling through full steam ahead. 

So he blows out a breath, cheeks puffed and says, "Your lip's still split."

"My lip?" Five repeats, eyebrows pulling low in confusion, hand raising to touch his mouth and finding that thin line where his skin was still fresh, the last remnants of the cut finally having sealed itself with fresh skin a few days prior. "And? I know it was much longer for you, Klaus, but for me back then was a little over two weeks ago. I don't have super healing, so, yeah. It's still split. Is that a problem?" Something wasn't adding up. Surely Klaus wasn't getting this worked up about his vulnerability. Or maybe he was. It was Klaus, and his family had been particularly affectionate as of late.

"Yes that's a _problem_ ," Klaus repeats, and then makes a frustrated noise, running both his hands through his hair. "Not a-- it's not a problem like-- you're not a problem, it's just--" he sighs angrily as he fails miserably to express himself, his hands gripping too tightly at his hair. "Can't you hear what you just said? I just-- feel like I missed three years of my life. I start a crazy bullshit cult thinking I'm never going to see my family again, and then you show up and you have a cut on your lip older than some tattoos I have now, because you got it a few days ago? That's fucked!"

Ah, time travel stuff. That's what was bothering him. Bringing a hand up to rub over his face, Five fixes Klaus with a serious expression, "Look, you didn't miss anything, okay? If anything you gained three years. Granted, those three years were in the 60s, which was maybe not the best time for you, but from what I hear you didn't do too bad, either," He's comforting Klaus, or trying. Hard to tell when he still sounded like a vaguely exasperated teacher, "Don't let the time stuff get to you, okay? Your years are still valid even if they didn't pass the same way for me. What matters now is that we're back to where we were, and you can pick up from wherever you left off. Nothing bad is going to happen to you now that we're back."

Bless him, he thinks Klaus is distraught at his loss. It's actually so far off the mark from what Klaus was intending to get across with his words that he goes silent for a few seconds as he attempts to decode the straight nonsense Five just spit his way. 

"Wait, wait," Klaus turns around now, sitting crosslegged on the bed across from Five. "I think we're having two different conversations here, man. I'm not worried about me, I'm worried about _you_."

"Me?" Five looks so taken aback the usual mask of condescension is gone, but only for a second. Heavy brows pull over his eyes, and he squints at Klaus. "About what, my lip?"

" _No_ , oh my god," Klaus crawls forward so he can put himself closer to Five. "Christ on a pogostick you're dense, just shut up," he says, grabbing Five's face in both hands, smushing his cheeks just a little in the process, and he inspects his lip. "Your lip is fine. But you just saved the world twice in two weeks. I was barely coherent enough to participate in either attempt in _four years_ and you just busted it out in fourteen days, my guy. Are you _good?"_

It strikes Five then what Klaus is saying, and immediately he feels a twist in his chest he is growing all too familiar with. He's hit with another wave of exhaustion, every memory from the past couple weeks playing in rapid succession somewhere in the recesses of his mind. He was all too aware of how long his past few days had been, each feeling like a lifetime on its own, each unique in the misery it caused. 

"Well, what we were we supposed to do? Let it blow up? And if I recall you were there, too. Both times, in fact."

"Sure, under duress," Klaus says, still holding Five by the face. "But jesus christ dude you really did it to 'em. You let me _rest_. I know you didn't do it on purpose, but you let all of us rest when you scattered us like... beans? I'm losing the metaphor. My point is that I would have been _way_ more useless than I was if I hadn't gotten three years to fucking chill out like I did. If I went nose first into the second apocalypse right after the first, _guarantee_ I would have peaced out and found a ditch to die in facedown while you guys cleaned up shop. If I hadn't had those three years to process my shit... to cope with losing Dave? I would've been donefor. So I guess what I'm really trying to say is... thanks for fucking up."

Five yanks himself out of Klaus' hands, wrinkling his nose and sitting upright, hands going to a tie that wasn't there, and he realizes belatedly that he's very much naked aside from his boxers, in front of his brother. It wasn't anything new, granted, they'd seen one another in much worse states, but still. The contact was weird. He teleports to his closet, pulling it open to find the endless, endless rows of freshly pressed uniforms, like he was actually going to get dressed and go about his day from here. "Well, you're welcome," He says curtly, pulling one of the hangers from the rack, teleporting to his door and hanging it there as he turns to look at Klaus, hands on his hips. "It's refreshing to see you clean. Hopefully you'll find it easier to maintain now that you're back. Was that all, or..." He would rather not talking about the tight feeling in his stomach. Another family member thanking him for doing nothing at all but just... falling into things, like he fell into everything. It felt wrong to take credit for Klaus' sobriety.

Klaus rubs a hand over his face as he looks across as his brother, sighing and shaking his head. It looks like he's about to start getting dressed of all things. "Hey, if I'm not allowed to run from this you aren't either, get back over here," he says, patting the bed beside him. 

Five frowns, staying rooted to the spot, "I don't deserve credit for your sobriety, Klaus. That was all you. You don't give yourself enough credit," He says, crossing his arms as he hesitates, eyeing the spot next to him. Finally, he steps over to him, not going so far as to sit down, "If I had done it right we all would have made it back to 1960, to buy us all some time. For what it's worth, I'm glad it was you who got the vacation out of all of us. I don't know who Dave was, but he must have meant a lot to you."

Klaus grabs Five by the shoulder and tugs him down to sit beside him. The mattress is dipped far enough that they're nearly hip to hip, and Klaus leans back on his hands to look up at the ceiling. "He was something special," he says with a fond timbre in his voice. "Sometimes I flip flop between whether it was a good thing I met him. A lot of good things came out of knowing him, but jesus christ losing him sucked."

He lifts an arm to drape heavily around Five's shoulders, tugging him into a side-hug so Five's shoulder digs into his ribs. "The last few years have been fucking crazy. I'm overwhelmed and I had a long time to deal with shit. I just hope you get a chance to rest now too."

"I _think_ I remember doing that before someone came in here and woke me up," Five drawls skeptically, following his brother's guidance and not immediately pulling away, though he could have. Maybe if he had any intention of actually getting ready and going back into the house he would have. As it was, he was happy he didnt have to actually follow through with it-- going and seeing the others seemed like a particularly bad idea, even if the alternative was a sincere moment with Klaus, of all people.

"Who, me?" Klaus leans back to look down at Five, offended. "I've been nothing but kind and sexy to you this whole time, and this is the thanks I get? I'm pouring my heart out for you-- which, by the way, if you tell any of the others about I _will_ purple nurple you until you cry."

Five scoffs, loudly, "Sexy is debatable, as is the likelihood of you ever making me cry," He drawls, leaning away, "Purple nurple or no, I'm pretty sure I can withstand anything your hands can dish out." Five allows himself to lean back on the bed, watching Klaus with a bemused smile, "Love the confidence, by the way. But you never really had a problem with that, did you?"

" _Excuse_ me? Sexy is _debatable?_ You little toad," Klaus knocks Five over and then swings a leg over him to sit directly on his bare stomach. "I founded a sex and free love cult and you wear _knee socks_ , I don't think you're the authority on what's attractive."

A little thrill goes through Five's chest as Klaus straddles him, and he can feel his heart hammering in his chest for the-- what, fourth time that day? And still he could feel the familiar giddy buzz starting in his fingers and toes. Instead of showing it, though, he glares, hands going to Klaus' thighs, as if to hold him at bay. "There's a reason I wear this instead of going down to JC Penny. This is the hottest it gets. You choose to make yourself look homeless, that's not on me."

"Hobo chic is _very_ in right now you turd," Klaus says, grabbing Five by the jaw. "The uniform wasn't even sexy when we were kids and actively screwing every day while wearing them."

"You never had a problem with it before," Five retorts, glaring daggers at Klaus while he has his chin captive, "Last I checked, you had a particular affinity for the tie. Or has that changed, too?"

"If I did, it was _your_ fault. You were the one always using it to gag me or tie up my hands," Klaus says, wiggling Five's face back and forth by the grip on his jaw. "But I had a leg up over you, I knew how to suck cock. If I'm remembering correctly, which I _am_ , it _did_ make you cry a couple times."

Five does pull his jaw away from Klaus then, eyes narrowing at him skeptically, but it's mostly for show. He can't ignore the way his mouth goes just a bit uncomfortably dry at Klaus' reminder. He had cried. Four times.

"Did it?" He says, lying through his teeth as he sneers, "Don't remember. Must not have stood the test of time."

"Bullshit," Klaus drops his hand to clutch the base of Five's neck instead, not grabbing his throat outright but laying his palm across his collarbones so his thumb and fingers frame the column of his neck. "I remember you coming to me in the dead of night to wake me up and ask me for a blowie."

"You sure that wasn't just wishful thinking on your part?" Five jeers, leaning forward to press his throat up and into the curve of Klaus' hand, as if daring him to add more pressure. That wasn't his game, though, he wasn't the kind to be choked out-- He was usually the one doing the choking. "If there's something you want to tell me, Klaus, I'm right here."

Klaus knows he's being goaded-- but he also knows it's working. Fire burns in his chest at the critique of his childhood blowjobs, which granted might not have been much as an amateur, but he _knows_ he brought tears of pleasure to Five's eyes a handful of times even then. 

"Let me jog your memory," Klaus says. "If I can get you to cry, you have to admit I'm the king of blow jobs."

"You really want to prove yourself to me, don't you?" Five drawls, huffing out a frustrated breath that, he had to admit, was mostly for show. Klaus was good at one thing, if nothing else, and it was putting his mouth to workawhile Five absolutely under no circumstances needed more sex right now... well, they were here, weren't they? "What makes you think I even want you to blow me? Did you miss the part where I said I was tired?" He ignores the growing bulge in his boxers in a way he's fairly sure Klaus won't, but he couldn't even covertly agree to a blowjob, not that fast.

"Oh, okay, I'll just go then," Klaus says, sitting up off Five's belly, making a show of swinging off of his stomach in dramatic fashion. "I bet Diego will let me suck his cock instead."

"Oh, shut up," Five rolls his eyes and scoots back in the bed, leaning one arm back so he can regard Klaus down the line of his nose. He took a quick, deep breath before he turns around so the younger man didn't see him girding himself, bracing himself for what was to come. He _wasn't_ about to cry, but after the night he'd had... maybe he shouldn't be so cocky. God, Klaus would never let him live it down if he actually did cry. 

Taking that as the consent it's clearly meant to be masked behind the sarcasm, Klaus crawls up on the bed to meet his brother. Five is a lot smaller than him, which is a fun turn on its head from when they were kids, and Five was always taller than him. Klaus was a pretty sickly child, anxious and grief-stricken by his own powers, which made him an excellent plaything for Five's power complex-- not to say Klaus didn't greedily eat up every scrap of attention Five ever gave him.

He kisses down the side of Five's neck, pushing him down by the chest to lay on his back so he can mouth down his chest, briefly sucking a nipple on his way past, tonguing and biting his navel and the jut of his hip bone, sliding his hands up Five's side to curl over his chest as Klaus lowers himself down to lay on his belly between his brother's legs. It's a familiar position, though in the past he would be hidden under a quilt so he could easily hide on the off chance someone would come knocking, so it feels salacious and exciting to be laying out in the open with the door unlocked, as if their father could walk in at any moment and scold them for letting their minds wander from their true purpose. 

Their purpose has been fucking fulfilled, Reginald. From here on out it's blow job o'clock all day every day. 

Memory strikes Five like a blow to the gut, and he reels by the sheer familiarity of it all. Klaus slips between his thighs like no time had passed at all, as if Klaus' shoulders hadn't filled out to double the size of their childhood, his head two feet above Five's own. Five watches him with an intense set to his eyes, green eyes dark as his body reacts instinctively to the familiar gestures.

He'd always liked to tease. Five's hand twitches against the sheets as his hips raise in response to roving lips. Five shudders deep through his core, swallowing thickly around his tongue and tipping his head back. He looks down his nose at the younger man, tongue dragging over his lower lip. His cock twitches heavily in his boxers.

He wants nothing more than to bury his fingers in Klaus' hair and hurry the process along, taking him as he wants him. But restraint kept his hands to himself and his expression very carefully neutral, intentionally staying as blank as he could-- not a hard task, but still something he had to actively do-- and Klaus had barely had his mouth on him. It would seem he'd need more work remaining neutral with a body as young and hypersensitive as this one. Then again, Five didn't know anyone who could go three rounds and not be a _bit_ sensitive.

Klaus' mouth finds him at last, but it's still a tease, mouthing at him through his boxers. The younger man sighs in satisfaction, wetting the fabric with his tongue until it sticks to Five's skin, and he flattens his cock up to lay aginst his belly, tenting the loose, damp fabric with it. Framing the length with his pointer and middle finger, Klaus strokes his tongue up along the underside, but Five can only feel the pressure, the actual sensation lost in translation with the fabric in the way. 

And Klaus knows exactly what he's doing, too. He presses his thumb right up behind Five's balls, finding and then grinding against the little seam there where they meet his perineum. He pushes there relentlessly, flooding sensation into his pelvic floor while Klaus seals his lips against the underside of Five's cockhead through the fabric and sucks.

Five's mouth twitches into a scowl as Klaus teases him. Of course, it would figure that he wouldn't have any sort of sympathy, and that his technique would have only improved. He was quite deft to begin with, but this whole process was brand new, and it brought a certain kind of agony to Five that he would like not to repeat. If his urge to take command was powerful before, it was impossibly loud, now. The outright need to shut Klaus up ate at his gut-- even though he wasn't saying a single thing. 

"Are you dick sucking king or ‘being a goddamn tease’ king?" Five growls as his hand moves to Klaus' hair, an action he almost immediately regrets. He already knows he wasn't going to hear the end of that any time soon, but he would just have to deal with those repercussions as they came. For now, his hand twisted in those heavy, dark curls, drawing Klaus forward onto him.

Klaus moans outright at the hand in his hair, and tugs Five's cock upright, still wrapped in wet fabric, so he can close his hand around it and squeeze. "I can be both," he grins, all cheek. "I thought you were some kind of certifiable badass, what kind of ultra-mega assassin doesn't have any patience for a little foreplay?"

"The kind of ultra-mega assassin who went back in time and ended up in a thirteen _fucking_ year old body," Five snaps irritably, eyes hard as he looks down at his little brother. His moan echoes in Five's ear long after he was finished, the sound twinging another chord of nostalgia for perhaps one of the people he'd fooled around with the most. It was like a proper homecoming. The entire day had felt like a homecoming, to be honest. 

He tilts his head, pulling Klaus away with a firm yank, prying him away from his cock with force, "You really don't want me to remind you what happens when I decide you're not going fast enough, or you'll never get me to cry." He warns, with every ounce of cruelty he can spare.

Klaus' grin only widens, after another moan is wrenched from him by that hand in his hair. "I don't think you're strong enough to hold me down anymore unless I let you," he says, sounding exactly as smug as he looks about it. "I'm finally not the shrimpiest member of the team anymore. Could you imagine, though?" 

He finally pulls Five's boxers down all the way, his cock springing up to attention like it's trying to hit the ceiling, and Klaus wraps his hand around it for a few slow, torturous strokes as he continues, "If you'd come back the age you're supposed to be? If you could even get it up at that age, I bet you could have put me through a fucking table, huh?"

Five's sneer was mean, condescending, "Oh, I would have torn you in half," He says, though his voice sounds oddly full as he says it, as if he were choking on his own tongue as he does. Still, he leans forward to watch as Klaus' hand fits around his base. 

He's already hard and twitching, the head a brilliant red as he goes from half mast to full in record time, heat pooling in his belly, making his stomach begin to flip in anticipation. He can see the clear line from cock to mouth, can imagine how it'll go-- which only makes the agony of his slow hand strokes all the more poignant. His breath leaves his nose in heavy draws, hot against his own chest. "If you're really good, maybe I still will. I think you'll be very surprised by how little size really matters."

"Ooh, promise?" Klaus gives a dramatic little shoulder wiggle as he digs his thumb into Five's cockhead, intentionally drawing out the moment just to make the payoff that much sweeter when it finally hits.

A groan is torn from him as the glans at the base of his head are pressed into. Such a simple action makes his entire cock jerk in Klaus' hand, veins throbbing across the base. Five raises his leg to the bed, tilting his head back as it takes him by surprise. He's not about to cum, never would this quick, but god Klaus was really fucking pushing it with him-- or maybe he hadn't been teased in too long, and he'd let himself get cocky. The other three certainly hadn't teased him like this.

Still, Five pulls Klaus' head in, grinding the head of his cock against the scruff of his beard and the high, prominent arc of his cheekbone. "I'm fucking your throat if you don't suck me off," Five's voice is a rumble in his chest, a threat that absolutely bears weight. A promise, really.

Klaus gives an appreciative sound at that particular oath, and he finally opens his mouth to fit Five inside. The first thing he notes, as his eyes flutter closed and decorate his cheekbones with thick lashes, is that Five actually feels like a considrable size in his mouth. He remembers back when they were around this age, he could barely fit half of Five in his mouth without gagging at the start. It took a lot of dedicated practice to be able to deep throat him, but even then it was a struggle. He'd fully expected to be able to down him in a single shot, and is more than pleasantly surprised to find that it isn't actually that easy. 

Not that it's _hard_. Klaus has more than enough experience swallowing dick by now, many of which have been larger than Five by a considerable margin. But there's something special about the way Five's cock feels in his mouth-- maybe it's the weight of nostalgia, or the heft of the feeling Klaus holds in his chest for the other man. Something he really shouldn't be thinking about with a dick in his mouth lest he be the one who starts crying. 

He sucks Five down to the root in a single stroke nevertheless, his throat flexing comfortably around the intrusion. His tongue flattens at the base to protect the tender skin there from his teeth, and he ripples and flexes his throat around his brother's cock, determined to ride him hard and put him up wet. 

The exquisite glide of flesh around cock is truly something you never forget. A household full of touch-starved children was arguably one of the best places for a young man to be hormonal and in close contact with many other hormonal boys. A complete lack of supervision during their private hours mixed with a healthy need to rebel against an oppressive parental structure meant that breaking the rules happened, and happened quite often. Five had had his first blowjob by twelve, not entirely unlike this instance-- but with much less growling on his part, less smirking on Klaus', and overall a lot more fumbling.

Still, the practiced way Five goes from cruel cold air to the warm tension of Klaus' throat is enough to exhale like the air was punched out of him. He feels that all the way in his throat, under his chest, like Klaus is reaching inside of him and tasting his goddamn soul. Five is silent and still for a long minute, before he exhales, heavily, through his mouth. A practiced gesture, clearly for maintaining some semblance of control. 

" _Perfect_ , Klaus, perfect," He mutters, voice like a sigh as he drags his hand through Klaus' hair once as a reward, but loosens his grasp. Klaus wanted to play a game, and Five was absolutely willing to let him. Maybe a little bit of himself wanted to have a good cry wrenched out of him, just like old times.

Klaus pulls almost completely off, slurping up to the tip with an intentionally obscene noise, his cheeks hollowing with the suction that he only breaks before releasing completely. His thumb and forefinger circle around the base to keep Five's cock where it should be, pointed upright for the easiest access, so he can plunge right back down to the base. 

Passing his mouth up and down the length with a vacuum seal around Five's cock, Klaus reaches with one hand to palm at his balls, tugging at the tight little sac to coax it away from Five's body. They're charmingly small, nestled in a neat little coin purse that Klaus could lose himself playing with. He doesn't have any hair here yet, and the skin is silky soft, the perfect little stim for Klaus to rub his thumb against as he bobs his head over five's cock.

Five's cock leaps eagerly again into Klaus' mouth, the suction mixed with the trail of rough fingers against the sensitive skin of his sac has Five once more clenching his hand into a fist on raw instinct. The physical need to hold onto something as the other man's cheeks hollow and his eyes flutter down to concentrate on systematically plucking Five apart by the seams. He'd certainly gotten his practice, that couldn't be denied-- and it had certainly paid off, as if he hadn't already been a natural. 

His second foot raises from the ground to land on the edge of the mattress, giving himself something to dig into as Klaus' suction almost grows to encompass more than Five's body can handle, back arching into a delicate roll as he bears down on the younger's mouth, a stuttering thrust snagging the head of his cock against the sinfully smooth skin of his inner cheek. Being able to see his own cockhead in his brother's throat makes Five groan as it was, eyes fluttering shut.

Klaus relaxes his mouth then, still holding Five's balls by the base and flexing his fingers around them every few seconds in a pulse that matches his heartbeat, and opens his mouth to look up at his older brother through dark lashes that cast dramatic shadows on his cheeks. He lets his mouth hang open, sliding Five's cock along his tongue to the back of his throat at the perfect angle for the smaller man to watch it disappear. 

When Five's belly starts to jump in the telltale sign of an approaching climax, Klaus pulls away entirely, leaving his brother completely devoid of stimulation and sensation. His cock bobs helplessly in the open air, spit shiny and cooling along his length, and Klaus holds him down by the hips so he can't even buck up to chase the sensations. 

"What did I say about patience, padawan?" the younger man teases, grinning down at Five. "We'll get there when we get there, what's your hurry?"

Five's eyes bolt open as if he were electrocuted, and he looks down at Klaus with a look that screams of the audacity. He starts at him, betrayed and offended, furious and indignant, all in equal measure. There's visual conflict in his eyes as he lets out a haggard breath, turning his gaze away as he releases that first wave of pleasure. "What.... is... the matter... with you," Five snarls through stilted breaths for air, still resolutely refusing to allow Klaus to see him in any state of disrepair.

It's bad enough that he can feel the coolness of the room in high definition against his heated skin, well aware of the flush no doubt blushing his cheeks and ears and even his shoulders if he was very unlucky. Solo attention like this always overwhelmed him, an insatiable need for control demanding he at least know the game being played so he could reciprocate in kind.

And oh, Five did plan to reciprocate, but this? This he had no rebuttal for, the horrifying lack of contact where he once had a throat make him writhe listlessly and arch up to the sky, "Are you _trying_ to piss me off?" He snaps, eyes wild as he glares at him.

"Maybe," Klaus smirks with teeth, and then hooks his hands underneath Five's knees, lifting and spreading him open before diving back down. Without any hands to guide him, he just drags his tongue up the underside of Five's cock and then kisses his way back down-- all the way down, until he can close his mouth around his older brother's balls and suck. 

His thumbs press into the pressure points under Five's knees, sending tingles all the way up his legs and into his belly. If there's one thing he learned while being part of a crazy sex cult, it's how to utilize neglected erogenous zones. Sex could get nearly boring if you didn't shake it up often enough. 

Five's toes curl as his back arches off of his bed. It's a graceful bend, his back forming a low bow as his legs kick, spread open and held there by Klaus' hands. They felt more like a vice, now, although he knew reasonably that there was no real difference by the way he was being held. But his skin was hot, his brain a cloudy fog as his balls are taken and sucked, creating a warm vaccuum he wasn't aware could exist. His chest lets out another mighty heave, and he lifts his hand to press the heel against his forehead, as if to pin himself in place.

His legs twitch of their own accord, Klaus' fingers at work, no doubt, pinching pins into his toes and making him lose goddamn control of himself, " _Fuck_ , Klaus," He mutters, his voice tight as he lets out a low groan, breathing going breathy for a second as he leans forward to look down at his brother, absolutely filthy sucking on his balls, planted there like there was nowhere else he'd rather be.

Klaus is relentless. His teeth find Five's perineum and suck a hard mark there, until he's quaking and his feet are unconsciously kicking. He releases the seal of his lips and kisses a line up Five's tender inner thigh with a pressure so soft it's almost ticklish, before sucking another mark into the artery there, sinking his teeth into it until Five shouts. 

"Having a hard time up there, gramps?" Klaus murmurs smugly, tugging Five's balls with his lips again.

"Shut up," Five gasps as he raises his leg, only managing to get it so far as looping it up and over Klaus' shoulder, until his heel digs into the skin there-- but at least it offers him some sort of leverage he can use. Five grinds in, hips grinding down to meet his lips, the graze of his teeth against his perineum making his entire body feel like static, his belly bottoming out as his cock lurches. 

A massive, twitching jerk is given in retaliation, enough to have him curling up into himself, struggling to catch his breath. He foot digs in harder, "More," He asks, the closest thing he's given to asking politely all night.

Klaus dives back in and this time goes right for gold, sealing his mouth against Five's furl. It's a good thing Five had cleaned up earlier or Klaus would be tasting olive oil as he licks and sucks the tender gathered skin there, humming while he presses his nose firmly against the base of the older man's balls. His eyes are closed in rapt concentration, humming in the back of his throat as his tongue presses hard against his tender hole. 

Reaching around his thigh, Klaus curls his hand around Five's cock not to stroke, but just to hold and squeeze. He groans out through his nose, overcome with the smell and taste of the man under him. In equal parts he wants to fuck and be fucked, owned and be owned. Five has always ignited these feelings in him, it's nothing new-- but it's goddamn refreshing after so long. 

" _Klaus_ \--!" Five's shout was loud, for him. It was barely more than the volume of a cough, and just as short, the shout tearing itself unbidden from his chest with a sound that was almost painful. Both of his legs go rigid, toes curling onto themselves as his back arches off the bed. Pleasure ignites behind his eyes and it sounds like every breath is a rattling chore, half-hyperventilating as he takes heavy breaths out and much shorter, shallower gulps in.

He can't help it. His hands clamber to find purchase in Klaus' hair, and when they do they fist and hold on like his life depended on it. Five's hole flutters as he clenches and unclenches in equal measure, body unsure whether to lean in and enjoy the sensation or twitch away. His hole is still sensitive from earlier, still slightly pert and loose from the romp with Diego, and he can feel the tip of Klaus' tongue diving into him with such little effort it makes warmth pool like fire in his groin. He leaks pre onto Klaus' hands, whimpering as he turns to bite into his unoccupied palm.

None the wiser about Five's earlier escapade, Klaus is simply happy to find how easily Five opens for him. Soft and open, he pulls away in order to slip his pointer finger inside the older man. He's not looking to get him off with the stretch, rather to find that one particular little spot-- his discovery of which is heralded by another shout from Five, and his hips jumping up. 

With his finger on the killswitch, Klaus lifts Five's cock with his other hand and drops his mouth back over it, milking his brother's prostate in time with the plunge of his throat over his length. His eyes clench shut, his brows furrowed hard in concentration, and pleasure overwhelms him as the rhythm thrums in his veins. This is exactly what he wanted, this is the one thing he's been missing for so long he forgot he was missing it at all. 

Not blow jobs, heaven knows he's given and received his fair share of those over the years. Rather, it's Five himself that Klaus has been missing. All the casual unattached sex in the world couldn't stand in for sex with someone he loves. 

Jesus christ, he loves Five. Eugh, gross.

Five can't warn him. He doesn't have the ability to. His orgasm hits him like a goddamn freighter, and Five's voice shatters with his shout, either apathetic or oblivious to his siblings congregated only a scant few floors away, still politely mingling as they decide to wait for dinner. He doesn't even know dinner is an _option_. Frankly, the only thing he cared about in that moment was the mouth swallowing him to the hilt and that finger plucking at his already-sensitive core, leaving him jerking and twitching. 

He curls in on himself in a full circle, both hand finding Klaus' head and burying slim fingers in his hair to the scalp, twisting and pressing down, holding him in place as he comes. It seemed impossible he even could still, and it takes so much out of him it's almost painful, his entire body jerking and twitching while he clings to Klaus' head and neck.

And Klaus hears it. Just above him, quietly, Five's chin tucked into his chest, and from him a quiet, shaking sob.

It doesn't exactly fill Klaus with the smug satisfaction he thought it would. It doesn't feel like it used to, when he would finally get a leg up over his smarmy brother. Instead it just sounds heartbreaking to his ears. Not heartbreaking in a way that makes Klaus sad, exactly, sad is too general a feeling. But it feels heavy in a way he can't tell if he dislikes. 

Maybe it's because he's so much bigger than Five now, that he feels an instinctive sort of protectiveness, or a feeling like he should somehow be responsible for Five because he appears to be older than him. Or maybe it's just that it's been so long since he's gotten to be with Five like this that the shine of being rough with him has worn off, and he just wants to be domestic, or something awful like that. 

He pulls off of Five's cock and lets it fall back to his belly, crawling up to lay beside him. Where Five might have expected smug goading, instead he just gets a faceful of Klaus' chest as the larger man pulls him into an embrace against him. 

"I gotcha," he says, squeezing Five around the shoulders. His own prick is aching in his tight leather pants, pressing against Five's hip, but he pays it no mind as he rubs his other hand up and down his brother's side. 

Every nerve is on fire as Five reels from his orgasm, somewhere lost in orbit, his brain far above his corporeal form. His sob isn't one derived from sadness, or even anguish. His body sang from the hyper-exposure it had endured today, each sibling intense in their way. Five's heart felt raw, his skin felt raw, his _soul_ felt raw, like every last inch of him was chafed and rubbed to the point of impossibility. He couldn't understand how he'd had another orgasm wrangled from him, when Allison and Diego felt like they'd only happened ten minutes ago. 

But they hadn't. It had been more than enough time for his body to recuperate, especially as full of hormones as he was. His body looked for reasons to work itself into another frenzy-- as evidenced by the way his body flutters when Klaus' hands land on the tender skin of his shoulders and pulls him into what was otherwise a perfectly chaste hug.

"This-- isn't you," Five says with a voice that sounds more like tearing paper than a human octave, "Don't get cocky. This is-- the puberty." It doesn't make sense, testosterone doesn't traditionally work like that, but if Klaus was feeling generous enough to hug him, he could be generous enough to not push.

Five leans into the warm embrace, eyes only slowly focusing on the subject of his torment. But there's no true anger in his voice, no sadness or fear, "You're the blowjob king," He mumbles without quarrel, tucking his nose into Klaus' chest.

Klaus laughs warmly, he'd completely forgotten about that. "I am, thank you," he says, his cheeks aching he's grinning so wide."So kind of you to notice. At the moment I'm also the king of my dick hurts in my pants, do you mind if I take care of that?"

A mischievous and possessive spark flares in Five’s chest, and he opens his eyes, looking up from where he was daresay _cuddling_ to fix Klaus with a proper gaze. Then he smirks, almost lazily, "I do, actually," He rumbles like a contented animal, "Don't you dare think of getting yourself off." He adds, just to make the command official.

"You little shit," Klaus says, reaching down to undo the laces of his pants anyway. "It was a rhetorical question. You aren't the boss of me, despite what you'd like to think."

Surprising no one, Klaus isn't wearing underwear. Pantylines, he'd say. They look just awful in leather pants. His cock springs right out of the opening between the laces, long and on the thin side, and charmingly curved upwards like it's trying to fit into his belly button. 

Five doesn't react, as if he doesn't notice Klaus going for his own pants and pulling himself free. It's only when those same hands actually move to do something about it that Five interjects, a sharp slap echoing through the room. Five smacks Klaus hard on his newly-exposed thigh, so hard it leaves three red marks on the olive skin where Five's fingers had connected.

"I _told_ you not to touch yourself," Five says, voice stern as he presses his hand into Klaus' chest, leaning over the larger man. He's surprisingly heavy, even moreso when he actually applies pressure as he is, "What happened to patience?" He asks, glaring down at him.

"Ow!" Klaus flops over on his back with a frown that's verging on a petulant pout. "That was for _you_ , not me. You're not the only one who gets to cum in this house." Even if recent experiences might disagree. 

"Did I say you weren't going to cum? No, I asked you to not get _yourself_ off," He leans forward, more of his weight pressing onto Klaus, to the point where he wondered if his sternum could actually take the pressure. "You're going to let me catch my breath, and then I'm going to show you that I've learned a thing or two, too. Think you can handle that?"

"Oh," Klaus feels like he jimmy neutron style brain blasted back to the past when Five leans out over him and growls out words of command. It was no secret that he and Diego were Five's favorite punching bags, for when he craved different things. He would go to Diego when he wanted that struggle and fight for dominance-- and he would go to Klaus when he didn't want his control contested. When he wanted _obedience_. 

Here Klaus is, a grown ass man, feeling instantly subservient to a fourteen year old boy. It can only be described as muscle memory, because if it came down to it Klaus knows he could pick up and throw Five across the room (whether he could instantly teleport back is another matter) But the fact is that he doesn't want to. He feels gratified by the thought of obeying his brother, just like he always used to. 

Even so, he can't help but be a _little_ cheeky as he regains his composure, and he moans out an overdramatic, "Ooh, _yes_ daddy."

Five's smile is tight as he looks down at Klaus without answering the jeering mockery of his rightful title. If anyone was the daddy it sure as Hell was Five, so it was hard to take it as a sleight. The hand spread over his sternum closes pulls in closer. It's his turn to have his hand on Klaus' throat, but his gesture isn't nearly as kindhearted as the necromancer's. Instead, Klaus can feel the small, sharp points of his fingers first pressing, then jamming into the heavy jugular vein distributing blood to the rest of his body, while Five's thumb finds the sensitive skin just under his adam's apple. The hand clenches, effectively closing off Klaus' trachea and looking down at him with a serene expression while he does it.

His expression is clinical, a morbid curiosity in his eyes as he squeezes and watch Klaus' face turn a pretty pink, progressing to a darker shade of red. All at once, Five releases, allowing blood and air to return to him in one fell swoop, leaning back and letting him gasp as needed.

Klaus gulps in air like a dying man, exhaling it in a fit of giddy laughter that breaks off into a moan as his cock _throbs_ and leaks against his belly. The pressure of a hand on his throat, the rush of endorphins that hits him when the oxygen comes crashing back into his system, flooding his cottony head with a dull pounding-- it's a rush that he could never quite replicate even with the right combination of drugs. 

"Ffffuck," he hisses out, panting hard and staring up at Five with a dopey, euphoric expression. "Use both, your-- your hands are small."

"I didn't _want_ to use both or I would have," But because Klaus was good and asked-- And because Five wanted Klaus as thoroughly debauched as he'd felt with his tongue halfway up his ass-- Five straddles Klaus at his request. 

He gives him an indulgent look before leaning down, teeth catching on his earlobe as his mouth drags up his jaw to kiss delicately at the spot beneath his ear, "This is only because you asked nicely," He murmurs, his voice a low purr in his chest.

Klaus doesn't get a chance to reply. This time both sides of his throat are closed as two thumbs center on the spot just under his throat, pushing up and in, appropriately choking him on his own tongue while his fingers close the throat around him. All the while, Five is placing deliberately slow, delicate kisses across his jaw and over the bridge of his nose, teeth finding the shell of his ear.

He holds it longer this time, depriving Klaus of oxygen until his face is almost purple before releasing, both hands letting go. Five hears the desperate gasp from Klaus, thick saliva catching in his throat, but he doesn't wait. He's still gasping when those hands find his hair and pull back. He makes Klaus look him in the eye as he catches his breath, then sneers, "Open your mouth."

Klaus does. His mouth drops open, his tongue fitting over his bottom teeth just in case, though Five could really be planning anything he just wants to be prepared. His eyes are glassy and shiny, unfocused as they stare up at Five with adoration shining in spades. He doesn't speak, he just grabs Five by the hips and holds on, prepared to take any grief the older man deigns to dish out.

He smiles and almost looks like he might take pity on him, tongue lolled out as if he hadn't been sassing him two minutes ago. Five dips his head like he's going to give him a kiss, then spits in his mouth, leaning back and chasing it with his cock, half-mast and slowly filling out for a round two, hideous cocktail of teenage hormones be damned-- or maybe thanked. 

Five feeds Klaus his dick, one hand in his hair holding him still as his hips thrust forward without warning, trusting Klaus not to bite and to open his throat, feeling his head hit his soft palate, feeling the instinctual gag as he twinges that sensitive spot at the back of his tongue. For punishment's sake he rocks into that spot a few times, pulling Klaus' head forward to meet his thrusts as he specifically fucks his lower throat, feeling the spasm of it trying to expel him and holding on regardless, the clenching drawing a low, appreciative moan from Five.

Klaus recognizes this feeling. Not the dick in his throat-- though he definitely recognizes _that_ too-- but the fuzzy sensation in his whole body when Five is rough with him. It's nostalgic in a cozy way, as if his throat isn't being rawed by his brother's cock. Over the years he's learned that this feeling is a sub drop, but it originated with Five. Five was the first to make him feel low in this satisfying, sluggish way where he's confident that all the attention is on him, and all he has to do is just obey whatever's asked of him. 

He doesn't have to compete with anyone else for attention, he doesn't have to perform outrageous stunts to aggravate people into taking note of him... he just gets to obey. Really, being a bottom has always suited him. He's always been a slut for people paying attention to him. 

And Five has always been, if nothing else, very attentive. He uses Klaus' throat until the blood has returned to his cock, until he's throbbing and twitching again and his cockhead feels sore dragging against the rough texture of Klaus' hard palate. Only then does he withdraw, leaving a thick web of saliva between the two. He kneels over his brother, one hand on his cock, offering himself those slow, meandering strokes Klaus had been so kind to torment him with. He'd yet to touch the younger man’s dick, fully aware of the jumping, softly leaking agony it seemed to be in, left to its own devices.

"Now," He mutters, his voice low. God, Five had missed this. The thrill of power, the distinct knowledge that he was going to be doing some goddamn good for his brother, and also himself, "You're going to be a good boy, right?" Five leans close, brilliant green eyes sharp on pale, and his knee shifts from the side.

It lifts, then settles, Five’s entire leg kneeling on Klaus' throat now, just enough weight to drive his point home, but not enough for a proper strangulation. He lets up only a minute later, "I want to hear you say it."

Klaus lets out a pitiful wheeze, arching up to press into that knee. His eyes water and close, blinking tears that make tracks down his cheeks. He never would have guessed that coming in to ask if his brother wanted pizza would detour through emotional sincerity to wind up here, but he'd do it the same way a hundred times if he had the chance. He reaches up to grab onto Five's thigh, not to push him back but just to hold him there. 

"Yeah, yeah," he grits out, his voice barely audible as he takes in a ragged inhale that saws in his lungs. "I'll be good, I'll be good."

"Hm, I don't believe you," Five sneers, and grinds his knee into Klaus' throat, "Wanna try that again with some _sincerity_ this time?" He'd barely be able to wheeze in a breath, nonetheless talk, but Five had good hearing and clearly was paying close attention.

"Five!" Klaus warns, his nails digging into his thigh as his pelvic floor does loop de loops. "I'm gonna-- cum if you don't stop--"

"Then you better say it quickly so I don't have to fuck you after you cum," Five hisses meanly, "Tell me you're going to be a good little bitch, and _daddy_ will fuck you. Then we'll both go downstairs and you can tell the others why you were making such a racket." He bows over Klaus again, noses brushing together, though it was anything but a delicate moment between lovers.

Klaus lets go of Five's knee with one hand to grab the base of his cock in such a tight vice that it hurts, just to keep from cumming when another hard pulse in his pelvic floor nearly tips him over the edge.

"I'll be good!" he chokes out, his teeth grit and his eyes threatening to roll back. It would be so easy to just let go and deal with the consequences of cumming, but he knows better. Moreso, he _wants_ to do better. His hips jerk up, but he takes in another ragged breath and obeys. "I'll be good for you."

"Good boy." Five releases Klaus' hold on his neck and pushes himself up, hand around the base of his own cock, "Hands and knees, go."

Klaus doesn't waste any time and neither does Five. No sooner had Klaus positioned himself on his knees than Five appeared behind him, the quiet warp of his power lost in the way Five pushes Klaus' face into the pillow, then vanishes again. He reappears at his dresser, tugging at the lowest drawer and grinning, then returning. There's the pop of a lid, Five's hand on Klaus' ass readjusting the arc at which he bowed, and then two slim fingers press inside of him, callously and without much regard for his comfort. The fact he was preparing Klaus at all was lucky, considering how massively impatient his own dick stood between his legs. Five's hand settles between Klaus' shoulderblades, holding him into the mattress as he adds a third and crooks all three up and into his brother, slamming them home to the hilt, finally pausing to give him a chance to adjust.

With the animalistic bellow that Klaus gives, it's lucky that his face is in the pillow because there's no way the rest of the family wouldn't have heard. He bucks back against Five's fingers, hugging the pillow to his chest and biting it to try and muffle himself-- not out of shame, but out of a fear of getting caught. 

Why he cares, he's not exactly sure... force of habit, maybe. The only people left in the house are his siblings, all of whom have fooled around with one another at some point. Most of which he's _personally_ fooled around with. They don't have to hide from mom or Pogo-- there's nothing left to hide. It's with that realization that he turns his head and moans desperately into the open air. 

"Five! Oh jesus fucking christ, Five--" his hole clenches around his brother's small fingers. "Fuckfuckfuck that's good that's good--"

A powerful arm keeps Klaus in place as his fingers curl and reach. It takes some careful maneuvering to peg that spot inside of him-- But when it came to Klaus, Five was always able to manage it in record time. This was no exception. With one spectacularly hard thrust of his fingers-- Enough to wrench another agonized scream from his brother and a grunt from himself-- he finds it, the bundle high inside of Klaus that makes him jump and twitch, his cock looking painful, making a mess of his sheets. By the time this was all over, Five realized he was going to be very good at making beds half-conscious. Not a particularly useful skill, but handy in its own way.

Especially when it's at the cost of picking apart his brother. Five begins to drill into that spot relentlessly, grinding Klaus' face into the pillow, whether he chose to face it or not, as his hand fucks into him until his gaping, pulling away only to watch Klaus' hole flutter, unsure whether it should open or tighten-- and then he stuffs him full again, burying himself to the hilt like he aimed to milk him dry but always pulling away _just_ as Klaus reaches a shaking, trembling crescendo.

He plays with him like that for a while. Heavy strokes, then nothing. Pulling away to let Klaus catch his breath, then shoving four fingers in him and spreading them wide, until he can lean back and spit inside Klaus' wet hole and watch it sink inside.

Klaus wants to beg, but he knows better. He knows that begging for it will only make Five string him along longer. And he knows that this is revenge for him edging the older man earlier, so... fair's fair. He grinds his face into the pillow and pants against the fabric, long since gone damp from his heavy breathing, and does his best to not let his thighs shake or shudder too much. 

"Jesus-- _fucking_ christ, Five," he wheezes, his hole loose and downright sloppy. He's slipped down to lay mostly on his belly with just his ass angled up, knees braced against the bed and his toes curled as they point towards the ceiling. His hips jerk up with every tight spasm that punches him in the stomach, his cock practically a faucet on the bedspread. "How-- you-- _fuck_ , your-- _fingers_ , god damn it--"

He can't even grit out what he's _trying_ to say, his brain has been so thoroughly stirred by those fingers probing into him. A sob is wrenched out of him when Five hits his prostate again, and his cock leaks over the older man's sheets, so dreadfully close to an orgasm Klaus knows Five won't let him have. 

It’s something like empathy that makes Five take pity on Klaus’ destroyed body. He leans back to inspect his work, the bright red mark on the back of Klaus’ throat from his hand, the scratches up his back. With a steady hand, he lifts Klaus’ hips up and repositions his legs, the cool air of the room hitting his slick hole and making the younger man lurch. 

Five didn’t let him suffer for too long, for once. His fingers withdraw with a wet sound, and his hand goes to his cock. Again, a positive for his tunnel vision, the ability to ignore his own arousal as long as he had something to work on: And Klaus had really deserved his attention, now more than ever. He feels the same affectionate bloom in his chest as the larger man fumbles for his words, trying to remember how to use his tongue after having no problem with it just a moment ago. He strokes himself a few times, one hand on Klaus’ ankle to ground him, to reassure he hadn’t been left-- He was just admiring the view.

Was it odd that this was how Five felt affection for his brother? The others had at least a sappy moment to accompany this feeling, but with Klaus there could be no better form of reunion than this-- Him, debauched, restless, and begging for Five’s dick. Just like when they were kids. Except Five was better at it now.

“Breathe,” He orders, and waits for Klaus’ back to raise with an inhale-- and then sinks into Klaus with his exhale, cock sheathing itself to the hilt in one stroke and immediately enveloped by the velvet glide of Klaus’ hole, taking him _gratefully_ after the hour it had been waiting.

"Five!" Klaus yelps like he was shocked with a cattle prod, curling in on himself and muffling most of the noise in the pillow under him. He hugs it to his chest with both arms and bites the fabric to try and keep from blowing out Five's eardrums, because the feeling of something so solid sinking into him after the torture from his fingers is enough to make him wail like a banshee. 

He immediately rocks back to meet the press of flesh into flesh, his thighs visibly trembling as they hold him aloft, arching to meet his brother with a few ragged inhales. His insides had been veritably sand blasted by Five's rough fingers, to be replaced by the consistent, hot pressure of a cock wakes up every tired nerve in his body, forcing them all to sing in harmony. 

"Five, _Five_ ," he pants, already rocking back to try and encourage his brother, fucking himself shallowly over his length, squeezing to try and milk some kind of action out of him. "Please, _jesus_ , fuck, _please_ \--"

Both hands fall to the curve of Klaus’ ass, and Five leans back as he holds the man still, despite his desperate, shallow little rolls-- as if he was expecting to actually get any stimulation from that. As if Five would _let_ him. He watches himself settle into his brother, a low, appreciative groan rumbling from his chest as his hands hold Klaus’ ass apart to give him the best view. Perhaps more importantly, though, it gave Five room to sink in, and by the time he’s fully encased Klaus is already squeezing and clenching around him, like his body was trying to milk him dry. 

He starts slow. He didn’t need to, Klaus was no blushing virgin, but Five pulls out just as agonizingly slow as he pressed in, until the heavy head of his cock was just barely visible past that rim of muscle. And with a growl he sinks back in again. Those hands go white on his ass, digging into the soft skin, filling him to the hilt every time-- until he begins bringing Klaus to meet him.

Like a fleshlight, Five begins dragging Klaus back to fuck onto his cock, even as his hips snap forward to drive into him. He can feel the angle shifting, can feel him plunging in to his back, wishing he was just a few inches bigger so he could make him scream. But he hadn’t had a problem with it so far, Klaus has bee more than vocal. The speed increases, Five’s fingers digging bruises into his skin as his hips begin to properly drive him down, burying himself like he was aiming to fuck a hole through Klaus’ stomach and out the other side, face contorted in a snarling growl. 

“Klaus,” He grits through clenched teeth, breathing going ragged and shallow as he holds onto his own barely-contained orgasm, kept at bay for too long and now coming back to hit with a vengeance.

Five isn't the only one. Klaus can't help himself, and he doesn't even have the time to warn Five beforehand-- he cums with a wrought-out little squeak. He hadn't meant to cum so suddenly, but the combination of a hot poker stabbing into him, while getting fucked like a sex toy, on top of all the emotions swirling in his chest over the fact that it's _Five_ fucking him again, his orgasm hits him unbidden like a sledge hammer. 

"Sorry-- sorry--" he gasps, his teeth chattering with oversensitivity as he bucks back, hips shaking and thighs squeezing like they want to shut. "Don't-- don't stop, don't stop--" 

It feels cheesy to cry during sex, but Klaus can't stop the tears once they start. It's overwhelming, to be in this position again for a brother he fully expected to never see again. Five had been responsible for him starting on a very long journey of sexual self-discovery, beginning at the tender age of twelve, when he felt his first-ever flutter of interest during a training session in which he got in the way of his brother's teleportation, and lost him the competition that their father had put in place that day. Five had been furious with him, and Reginald reprimanded them both, Klaus for being recklessly in the way and Five for not properly preparing for it-- but Klaus thought about it for hours after, the way his brother had landed on top of him. The way his weight felt when he landed bodily on Klaus, and the angry way he'd shaken him by the shirt for losing the game for him. 

And here they are, more than twenty years later, Klaus with his ass in the air getting railed from behind by that same angry brother, with the same tight affection in his chest. Crying into his pillow, just like old times.

“ _Seriously?”_ Five asks with all the slightly-offended derision he can muster when he feels Klaus’ entire body shake and clutch around him, and the telltale, salty musk of cum fill the room. First Luther, now Klaus? “We need to-- get your-- stamina up-- again,” Five says between heavy drags of his brother’s ass. 

And then he grunts. Frustrated, overwhelmed, Five’s hand reaches up, then comes down hard on Klaus’ ass. It leaves a bright red imprint where he hits. “Keep moving,” He demands, while his other hand raises and strikes the other cheek. Hunched over him, Five continues his unrelenting rhythm, spanking Klaus red and sensitive even as he fucks him to pieces into his bed, chasing his orgasm but refusing to come, breaths leaving him in heavy, wet pulls.

"Fuck-- FUCK--" Klaus buries his face in the pillow again, his cheeks and ears burning-- both sets of cheeks, in fact. He bounces his hips back to meet his brother enthusiastically, despite being visibly shaky and drained. He's still eager to please despite his exhaustion, and though the oversenstivity stings, it also fills him with the kind of validation that only someone pushed so past the point of pleasure can feel. 

He rocks back on Five's cock with such an energetic clip that the older man barely has to thrust to meet him. As if Five is the one who's a sex toy now, and Klaus is getting himself off using him as a base. He turns his head to look back over his shoulder at Five, his eyeliner smeared in a racoony mess around his eyes with tears as he stared back at his brother with a hazy, fucked-out expression, breathing so hard his throat is starting to hurt.

The tear-stained gaze catches Five right in the gut. His body lurches, and for a second he remains almost still as he lets Klaus fuck himself like a slut on his cock. He doesn’t break eye contact, doesn’t break line of sight. Not until he shifts, a quiet, “Fuck this,” Leaving his throat as Five leans over.

He’s not as large as he’d like. God, he wished he was a normal size. But the strength he puts into it-- and the weak resolution Klaus was working with-- does the trick just fine. Bending over Klaus, Five pins the younger man to the bed and begins drilling into him with some force. Klaus’ ass gets caught on the bunched-up duvet beneath them, and unable to flatten entirely against the bed it gives Five the perfect amount of lift to strike deep into Klaus’ core again, and again. He lays the entire weight of his body onto him, chin lifted to always keep that eye contact as he opens his mouth and bites a hard mark into Klaus’ shoulder.

The bed creaks under the weight of Five’s thrusts, ancient wood groaning and dully hitting the brick wall as Five follows raw, animal instinct; filling Klaus again and again until he spills inside of him with a choked shout of his own, not even hesitating to fill the man with cum, fucking him all the way through his own orgasm, until Klaus’ hole was clenching and milking him dry enough to hurt-- and then he goes still, head finally hanging as the rest of him shakes.

Their mingled panting is the only sound in the room for a while as Klaus lays face-first on a wet pillow, dazed and fucked stupid. His hole flutters involuntarily around the intrusion inside it, weakly clenching and unclenching in time with his throbbing heartbeat. 

"Jesus, Five," Klaus whispers after a moment, his voice breaking and soft. 

"Yeah," Five mutters, tasting blood before anything else. He looks up, peeling himself from Klaus' back, sticky with sweat, and finds he'd actually drawn blood. Tucking his thumb into his mouth he wipes at the little bite marks gently, tucking his thumb back in his mouth afterwards to easily clean it. He'd stopped being weird about fluids and Klaus a lifetime ago, and time apart didn't change that. 

Pushing himself onto one arm, he groans low in his chest as he pulls out of his younger brother, tipping his head back and watching the mess of cum leave his spent hole, stomach flipping. Pulling up to lean over Klaus, Five gently pushes the sweat-slick hair away from his forehead and eyes, a warm hand settling between his shoulder blades. "You did good, Klaus," He murmurs, voice full of warmth. "Thanks for sticking with me, there."

Klaus rolls over and captures Five in an embrace, knocking him down to the bed on his back and flopping down beside him with his head on his shoulder, his arm over his waist. "You did good," he repeats, his voice all crackly like a log in a fire. "Jesus, I missed you. I think I just... convinced myself I didn't."

"Couldn't've been easy. Didn't you have to look at me at every meal?" Five asks, sounding amused as his hand curls around Klaus' waist in kind. He's disappointed Klaus doesn't fit like he used to, snugly curled into his side, but this isn't bad, either. In its way. "How soon after I vanished did Dad put that portrait up? Immediately? Did he even wait a day?"

Klaus tucks his nose against Five's shoulder with a sigh. "No, he waited like... three days," he says. "But you never got a funeral, like Ben did. I guess he figured you'd come back eventually. And I guess you did, but-- I wonder what he would have done with that painting if you did." He tips his head up to look at his brother with a smirk. "We should do something with that big stupid thing. Sledding? Bonfire?"

Five snorts, smiling despite himself. He couldn't help it, wouldn't even if he could. Klaus had a way of bringing out the kid in him, of reminding him that enjoyment was important-- it was a lesson most of his siblings could do with. Out of all of them, Klaus was the only one who really got that.

“We should hide it in Diego’s room,” Five murmurs as he dips his head down to tuck his nose in Klaus’ hair. For all he looked the part of a grungy, dirty hippie, he certainly never smelled like it. A point in his favor, at least, “I bet we’d hear a shout, oh… 3am. When he goes to piss.” Smiling down at Klaus, he lingers for just a bit long, eyes unwilling or unable to leave. Five’s arm around Klaus’ waist tightens, like he’s afraid to let go.

"Right over his bed, on the ceiling," Klaus says, his eyes lighting up with a mischevious light.

Five makes a noise, "Don't know how we'd get all the way up there at 3am without waking him up, though. Somehow I don't think Luther would be the best man for the job."

"Five you know how to _teleport_ ," Klaus laughs, sitting up to straddle his brother, just to feel close to him again, laying down so they're chest to chest. 

"Yes," Five agrees with all the patience of a saint, "Teleporting isn't floating, and I'm 5'3. So tell me again how I'm reaching the ceiling?" 

Five smirks as he looks up at Klaus, hands going to his hips. Five rubs his fingers soothingly over the muscle there, the skin he'd left dotted with bruises-- including the purpling splotch decorating his right ass cheek. That, Five grazes his nails over, nothing but gentle, though he does watch Klaus through his eyelashes for a reaction.

Klaus' muscles all twitch and shudder involuntarily as he thinks. "Okay, we put it in his shower," he says in defeat after a moment of thought. Pleased with the reaction, Five's hand goes still, gently cradling Klaus' ass instead of antagonizing.

The silence between them is nice, warm, comforting. Familiar. It makes Five forget the last 50 years for just a second, as if he had only missed a year or two. "If I can't put it above his head, the shower. Or maybe we should make copies and leave them around for him to find, like a fucked up scavenger hunt..." He's getting carried away with himself now. 

Warmth surges in his chest as he looks up at Klaus, still twitching whenever his fingers graze over a bruise or a scratch. Five pulls him closer, murmuring, "So were you just coming in here to join me in a nap and this was a pleasant surprise, or was this what you were planning all along?"

"I actually came to ask you if pizza sounds good," Klaus lies, but really it's a white lie. "I was sent to find you to ask. _This_ was all just a fun little detour."

Five chuckles under his breath, voice turning to a pleased, rumbling hum in his chest, "I trust you'll tell them whatever outcome you want more. I'm probably going to go back to sleep for the next 16 hours if I can help it." He admits, laughing dryly. "You're welcome to join me, if you'd rather not deal with the rest of them bickering over toppings?" It was a soft offer from Five, not one given very often, but it seemed he was comfortable with Klaus in his arms he didn't mind the other boy sticking around.

Klaus' eyes open a little wider. "Uh-- let me tell them and... clean up, and I'll be back in five minutes," he says, swinging off of Five's lap to grab his pants, his heart pounding in his chest. How stupid was that-- he felt more excited over the idea of getting to nap with Five than he was to fuck him? Not that he wasn't over the moon to be intimate with Five again, but there's something special about the idea of being given the chance to be vulnerable with him. "You get comfy, I'll be back." 

And he does come back, after telling the others downstairs that Five _had_ in fact voted for pizza, he returns to the bedroom and even relocks the door behind him this time before crawling back into bed with his brother. He even lets Five big spoon.


	5. Vanya

It was midnight when Five finally calls quits on his 'nap'. He was sure Klaus had expected to spend the entire night sleeping together after they'd come back upstairs after dinner, but sure enough, after a few more hours of gentle dozing, Five's brain had told him enough was enough, and he had more important things to be doing than napping. He didn't of course, and that was partially the problem. It was hard to break habits borne out of 50 years of necessity, so when his body screamed 'action' and there was nothing to do, that energy went a bit... static.

Like restless legs syndrome, but 100 times worse, Five leaves Klaus without disturbing him, telling himself he'll be back before Klaus even realizes he's gone. It's just a brief walk, after all, though it was certainly an odd one. Patrolling the familiar-yet-not hallways of their school and home, Five feels very much like a stranger in familiar lands. Like an old bedroom, every room Five meandered through held some sort of deep nostalgic meaning. And, more often than not, a bitter memory (or 10) of their father dearest. 

Of all the days to have a memory about Reginald-- Five decided all at once that capping off today with thoughts of the old man was not going to be how it happened. So he diverted, took a sharp left, down the familiar halls and corridors to the public rooms, then private.

There were rooms only for show, where press conferences were held or training exposes, grand gardens to make The Umbrella Academy look at benevolent as possible while the gasping public sighed and adored on its participants from afar. Five remembers all too well the fawning, and he, for one, is rather grateful their legacy had all but died, like so many child stars before them.

It must have been habit that takes Five on the familiar path to the lower kitchens, many a midnight spent traversing the same corridors with the same silence with the same goal: food.

He hears the sound of humming coming from the old kitchen when he gets within range of the door, and can recognize the voice instantly as Vanya, the only sibling he hasn't yet seen today. He hasn't seen her much at all recently, actually. She's been pretty reclusive since they got back from a second apocalypse, also brought on by her. None of the others can really blame her for her introversive behavior-- and very few of them actually make an effort to seek her out. She mostly just avoids everyone, and it's pretty easy to do so in a house this size. 

Perhaps a testament to the relationship that she and Five used to have, the thought of avoiding her doesn't even cross his mind, as he pushes open the kitchen door to find her standing at the counter with her back to the door, humming the tune to a song he doesn't recognize. 

She doesn't notice him behind her. Honestly, she doesn't notice much at all. She's barely even aware she's in the ktichen, she might as well be sleep walking. It's been so long since she's lived in this house again that she's spent much of her days here just wandering the halls in a fugue state, vainly searching for any scrap of memory here that doesn't make her want to curl up and cry. 

Something, anything, a shred of humanity, a morsel of warmth. In a dissociative haze she wandered down to the kitchen in search of the only thing that she ever looked forward to in the long, exhausting days at the academy, watching her own actions as if having an out-of-body experience as she presses raisins into stripes of peanutbutter spread down the center of celery sticks, cut in half. It's an old action, one she could do in her sleep. One she has done in her sleep. She would perish from old age before she could count all the times she had a dream about doing the very same thing she's doing right now-- part of what makes her feel like she's in such a dreamlike trance, now. 

It doesn't hit right away what Vanya was doing, only that she was in the kitchen, quietly making a snack. Finding Vanya in the kitchen at this hour was also nostalgic in its way; she would frequently be the solo occupant Five would find on his restless night walks as a kid, to the point that of everyone else in the house, only she knew his favorite midnight snack. It's only when he rounds on her now that he sees what she's working on.

Celery sticks with peanut butter and raisins, cut in half. His old favorite makes Five's chest hurt, and he stops in his track, midway across the kitchen, when he sees that's what Vanya is working on. Familiarity makes him warm but apprehension keeps him still, as he clears his throat, disrupting the quiet silence of the kitchen and hopefully being a better wake up call than Five's hand on her shoulder, or back. Interrupting Vanya was a worse idea than ever, as of late.

"I was wondering where you were," Five says, his voice quiet, like there was something secretive about what they were doing, "I should've known I just had to wait until midnight. Did you hear me walking around?" Five asks, gesturing to the plate, "Next time you should just say hello."

His soft _ahem_ alerts her to his presence, and his voice snaps her totally out of her reverie. Her head whips around to look at him, and the swish of her hair catches his attention to the fact that she'd cut a significant amount of the length off. It's a little uneven, it looks like she'd done it herself in a bathroom somewhere with craft scissors, but the dishevelment looks charming on her. 

She takes a moment to look at his face with wide brown eyes like she isn't even sure where she is or how she got here. She vaguely remembers coming downstairs, but doesn't really remember why, or how long she's been here, or when Five showed up, or if she came down here with him-- she puts her hand down on the counter, and the side of her pinkie upends one of the celery logs, startling her when the peanut butter touches her finger. 

"Oh-- oh," she pulls her hand back and looks down at the snack prepared under her, butter knife still clutched in her hand, which she drops to the counter with a clatter like it burned her. It hasn't been completely unusual for there to be short lapses in her memory, ever since she's started recovering from her amnesia, sometimes she'll make it entirely down a flight of stairs or enter a room while forgetting what she came in there for-- or sometimes she'll make it all the way to her car before she remembers she didn't actually have a reason to leave the house. But this is the first time she's ever made it entirely to another room and through a whole activity without even being aware of her surroundings. 

But it would make sense that it's this. She wipes the peanut butter from her finger onto a dish towel, staring down at the chopping board under her, with five little logs prepared the same way she used to prepare every single night, for years without fail. She must have prepared this exact snack _hundreds_ of times, with five raisins pressed into each. 

It hits her in the chest like a freight train when she looks up again at Five, mouth slightly parted, and tears well up in her eyes and start to spill down her cheeks before she's even realized she's crying. She gives another soft "Oh," and tugs the sleeves of her sweater over her hands to wipe at her cheeks-- but that only seems to properly open the floodgates and she takes in a few gasping breaths as grief hits her so suddenly her legs feel weak.

As soon as he sees Vanya buckle, Five is gone. He vanishes from his spot at the head of the kitchen, reappearing at Vanya's side, arms already raising to curl around her protectively. His heart aches, his chest going unbearably tight at the sudden emotion that stirs. Forgetting all hesitation for his safety, Five embraces his sister, arms curling protectively around her shoulders as he pulls her into his chest.

She still fits like she used to. Of all his siblings, Vanya fits the exact same way they did when they were kids. Five guides her chin up and over his shoulder, pulls her chest to chest. Klaus had asked him if he was okay, but had anyone asked _Vanya?_ She'd had even less time to cope with the fact she'd inadvertently caused two apocalypses, and had this hidden power she never thought she'd had. Five realizes selfishly that no, he hadn't sought her out. Perhaps he was the one person that would have and should have, but he was too focused on recovering, too focused on the relief of finally being somewhere calm and safe, that he'd allowed himself to believe that the work was over. Five chastises himself, angry. The work was never over.

"Hey, hey, Vanya, it's okay," His voice is warm as Five cradles her to his chest, holding her with surprisingly strong arms for their size, an unrelenting iron vice of a grip that offers no other option but being held. Unless Vanya planned to shove him off with power, he wasn't going anywhere. "It's okay, you're safe. You're safe. I promise."

Her arms are folded between them like a cat as she trembles in his arms, taking gasping inhales like even she is surprised by the tears. The pressure of his arms around her feels like safety, feels like home, and she leans her full weight into him. 

"Sorry-- I'm sorry-- I don't-- even remember coming down here," she chokes out between gusty sobs, pressing her face into his shoulder like she's trying to melt into him."Stupid-- it's stupid--"

  
"That's okay," Five murmurs, ever-patient, "You don't have to remember. It doesn't matter, "He presses his face into her neck, amazed that the woman he held now was so much older than the last time he held her like this, and yet had barely grown an inch since then. Her karma, for hitting her growth spurt before he had. 

Quietly shushing her apologies, Five can feel the wet spot on his shirt where Vanya's tears were soaking through: Served him right for ditching the entire blazer get up and just going with the shirt and sweater vest, but he was hoping for something a little more casual at midnight. And he didn't expect to be cried on.

"Hey, Vanya, look at me," Five murmurs, leaning back and waiting for her to raise her chin to do as asked, "You're not stupid," He says as soon as he has her attention, raising his hand to wipe away her tears with the back of his index finger.

Her jaw trembles childishly as she tries to get her feelings back under control, her chest heaving with ragged, gasping inhales. She does look at him, she really looks at him, but that only seems to upset her more. She grabs him by the shoulders just to feel his solid form under her palms and gasps again, fresh tears spilling. 

"You're _home_ ," she says, swallowing thickly. "I don't think it's sunk in yet. I used to-- do this every night, I'd sneak out of bed and-- come down to the kitchen and make this snack in case you came home-- I'd turn all the lights on because I was scared-- if you came back and saw the house dark you wouldn't come home--"

Five can feel his stomach turn to ice. It fills his lungs, his arteries, until her words properly echo in his ears and he looks over her shoulder to the small tray immaculately crafted with the exact snack he liked, the way he liked it. Five had thought it was just a coincidence that Vanya would be downstairs making the same thing, that surely it made sense two children brought up together would have the same favorite snack, but to hear it wasn't such a coincidence? That for years she upheld the mantle, long after his portrait had been hung?

"You're the best of us, Vanya," Five murmurs, his voice gentle as his hands raise to cradle her face. He wants to keep her looking at him, wants her to stay grounded in this for as long as she can. Any sense of reassurance Five can give, he wants to, for no other reason than the girl crying in his arms is possibly the one person he missed most for an entire lifetime.

Her lower lip trembles still, even as she tries to get a grip on her emotions, fresh tears spilling from her eyes. "I wasn't," she whispers, grabbing and holding him by the wrists as she gives a wet, miserable laugh. "I once got in the worst trouble because-- I came down one morning to find the snack had been eaten and I thought you'd come home. I ran through the house looking for you and everyone thought I went crazy. I found out Diego was the one who found it by chance and I-- I got so _angry_ and sad and embarrassed that I jumped on him and wouldn't stop hitting him until Luther pulled me off."

It feels wrong for Five to keep Vanya here in a feedback of emotions as she was. The kitchen triggers memories, and the memories trigger her sorrow, and it's a never-ending loop that only seems to hurt her. Maybe in a normal home the memories would have faded into something bearable, but here, in this house? The walls had seen so much discontent, the inhabitants so much torment. Five realizes then there was no peace to be found in these halls.

Wrapping Vanya in his arms again and closing his eyes, his magic fills the space around them, then between, enveloping them in a slightly-cold warp that chills them both through to the bone: and then it fades. The cold recedes to warmth, and the new room around them fills with life anew.

It's a hotel room they frankly couldn't afford without their father's help, but was fortunately outside his stylistic choices. There were no Victorian etching in the walls, or sweeping, dramatic embellishments along the mantle. There was no antiqued brass or copper gleaming sinisterly in the dark. Instead, it was immaculately furnished with pristine white and champagne gold, the walls backlit with a faint orange glow as if from candles. It was empty, and massive, Five and Vanya taking up only a small square of the massive suite. Just outside the gauzy curtains, the cityline of Manhattan greets them, a foreign world an eon away.

"Sorry," Five murmurs softly as his hands move from her face to her arms, rubbing warmth into the skin, "I thought you should get out of there. Too many memories in that place," He explains kindly. "For what it's worth, I guarantee Diego deserved that beating. If not for that, something else. He usually does."

She's so startled by the sudden change in scenery that she just forgets to keep crying, twisting out of Five's embrace to just look around the room with wide, wet eyes. She scrubs her face dry as she looks around the suite with an awed, dazed expression. All the lights are off, since they're in an unoccupied hotel room, but the skyline is bright enough to illuminate the room around them so she can see. 

"Where _are_ we?" she whispers, looking back at him with eyes that reflect the city behind them.

"A hotel I always wanted to try. The Edition," With the loss of Vanya in his arms, Five tucks his hands into his pants pockets instead to give them something to do, his nonchalance easy as it ever was. Nothing seemed to bother him, not even the affluence of this place.

He casts a discriminatory eye over the room, the foray into a living room and dining area just past a massive set of frosted glass double doors. The balcony was visible from where they stood, with another seating area and broad view of the sprawl of the city, as well as what looked like a fireplace that must be on some sort of timer, as a small fire was in the hearth. 

Five looks back to Vanya, smiling slightly, tight-lipped as always to the point that it was basically a grimace, "Do you like it?" He asks, the hope in his voice genuine.

"It's _beautiful_ , Five," Vanya breathes, looking out at the city again. She trots over to the sliding glass doors that lead out to the balcony and tugs it open, the cool night air filtering into the darkened hotel room and washing over Five's body as Vanya grabs the railing of the balcony in order to put herself as close to the view as she can. She hears the soft warp of Five joining her just a few feet away, giving her the space she needs to soak in the sight. Her cheeks are finally dry when she looks at him again, breathlessly. "I guess I didn't realize how suffocating that old house is. You know I've lived in this city my whole life and I've never been anywhere with a view like this."

The relief that fills Five's chest when he sees Vanya's face again, this time without the sheen of tears, makes him smile out of sheer gratitude. Ducking his head, he joins her finally at the railing, hands smoothing over the freshly-oiled metal bar. This place was kept up well: the entire balcony smelled like eucalyptus and mint. Impressive, considering the city surrounding them.

"That tracks," Five admits, looking over the lights, "A view like this costs about twelve thousand dollars a night, plus tax. Kind of ridiculous when you could just find a tall building to look at," But then they wouldn't have the fireplace, the bed, the quiet serenity of the penthouse behind them. Sneaking another look at her, Five leans to nudge her with his shoulder, "I planned on taking you here sometime, anyway. You should really get out of the house more."

"How did you know about this place?" Vanya asks, scrubbing away the last of the sticky tracks of dried saline on her face. "Dad didn't ever take us here. I don't think we ever slept anywhere but home... or on airplanes. Or trains. He was kind of stingy for such a rich man, wasn't he?"

"Rich men are always the most frugal," Five admits with a heavy noise of disapproval, "Traditionally, it's how they got rich in the first place unless they were born into it. But even that starts somewhere." Turning, he leans his elbows on the railing to look into their penthouse, backlit by faint LEDs. Up here at this time of night, they can barely hear the traffic below. It's almost peaceful, this high up. 

There's a moment of hesitation before Five speaks again, mouth set in a line. "I scavenged shampoo and soap from this place when I first arrived in the future. I found a housekeeping cart with an entire bag full, and it lasted me a good while. Told myself if the soap was that good, I should really come here when it was actually standing," Looking down at the fireplace, he takes a breath, "It doesn't disappoint."

She reaches out to put her hand on his on the railing, her throat tightening. "What was that like?" she asks softly. "I can't even--" she pasues, brows furrowing. "Well. I was going to say I can't imagine what that kind of isolation is like, but-- I guess I can."

"I don't know. Kind of hard to say," Five admits, not looking at Vanya even as their fingers lace. His eyebrows are furrowed over his eyes as he remembers, breathing steady. It's a surreal moment, a culmination of.. a lot. To finally be here was... at least I had my freedom. I could go where I wanted, with who I wanted, do what I wanted."

It's then that Five turns to look at her, eyes soft, "I guess the worst thing about it was knowing what was still here in the past, waiting for me. That I had someplace to be and every day I spent in the future was another day away from you.... guys," He adds, looking down and away, mouth set in a line. Five looks up at her again, frowning, "I'm sorry I wasn't here for you, Vanya."

"It's not your fault," she says softly, reaching up to cup his cheek as she says the one thing no one else had. They'd all thanked him for what he did, for the sacrifices he'd made and how hard he fought for their family, but Vanya is the first to say this. "Nothing that happened was really our fault. We would have been normal kids living normal lives if Reginald hadn't stolen us and turned us into this. This... horrible, ugly knot of inhuman emotion. If he'd taken a _second_ to connect with you, if he'd even _tried_ , maybe you wouldn't have been pushed over the edge. If he'd taken a second with any of us..."

Five wants to deny her, but there's not much to deny. What could he say, that she was wrong? That Reginald could have been the most compassionate man in the world and Five would have still ended up in that wasteland? It's not true. Most of who he is, he owes to Reginald. It was encouraged, lauded even, growing up-- his cutthroat demeanor and clever thinking had made him just about as close to a favorite as he could be in the eyes of their father, second to Ben or Allison, who only had them both beat due to her powers. It doesn't help the hollow feeling in his chest that makes him ache.

"Thank you for saying that," He says, thought doesn't sound like he believes it. Five avoids Vanya's eye for a long time. Close as she was, the proximity of her just made him hurt deep in his gut, "I can't imagine what it was like. With me gone. The others... as they were," Five swallows, finally looking up at her. "It's why I wanted you here, with me," He turns, curling an arm around her shoulders and pulling Vanya flush to his side to look back over the city. "I can't make up for leaving, but I can share this with you, at least."

She rests her head on his shoulder, her stomach doing a little flip flop as old memories resurface. How Five had really been the only one who had been distinctly on her side through their early childhood. He had his disagreements with the other siblings here and there but was on largely good terms with all of them, so he alone was able to coerce, threaten or force the others to either pay attention to Vanya or else leave her alone if they were laying into her too hard. 

It _was_ more difficult after Five left, but she knows he didn't leave to hurt her. She never realized how much she relied on him until he was gone. 

Sniffling softly, she rubs her cheek against his shoulder. "You know, when I was still a kid, I wished you'd taken me with you when you ran away," she whispers, her voice soft. "I didn't know where you went, so I thought you just... ran off, somewhere better. I always envied and admired you for having the courage to run away and make it on your own. I would picture you sitting in a swaying train car somewhere, writing letters to me in a leatherbound journal about all your adventures-- letters you could never send because dad would find where they were sent from, and he'd find you and make you come home. I had dreams you'd climb through my window to tell me you found new parents and they'd adopt me too if I came with you."

Five's head snaps down to look at Vanya as she speaks, eyebrows first twitching, then knitting together the longer she spoke, concern a heavy crease between his brows, "You know I would have rescued all of you guys if I'd had the chance," he says seriously, voice low. "In a heartbeat, Vanya, if I was even sort of nearby, if I could teleport... at all, anywhere, I would have tried to find you." The hand on her shoulder tightens resolutely, reassurance of a promise made. 

He looks back over the city, the frown more prevalent, now. "I thought about going back for you. First I jumped a couple days, then a month, then a season. Each of those times, I thought about going back for you. but.... I was selfish. I didn't know what good it would do if I showed up a month or year later and tried to show you what I could do, if we were still going to be stuck in that house... and then I jumped too far, got stuck." He swallows, heavily, "You were better here. I don't think you would have liked the future much."

"I don't think I would have either," she says, turning around fully to wrap her arms around Five's neck, putting her back to the skyline. "I don't want to think about that anymore. It was a long time to wait, but I'd do it again if it would bring you home. Promise you'll stay this time, or if you go, take me with you?"

Five's arm slips when Vanya moves, and on instinct he slides them both around her waist, locking at her lower back, "I'm not going anywhere, Vanya. Near or far," He promises, though then spares a glance behind her to the penthouse, "I might come here more often, in which case you'll be the first one I call," He extracts an arm from around her waist and holds up his pinkie, showing his seriousness.

She links her pinkie with his and rests her forehead against his with a wet, quiet laugh. "You know, I think the reason I... I fell for Leonard so easily is because I was waiting for you to come back into my life," she admits, ashamed and soft. "He was confident and mysterious, and had a complicated relationship with his father... and he was so soft with me. He made me feel special and safe in a way I hadn't felt since we lost you. I think on a level so subconscious I didn't realize, I was pretending it was you." 

Embarrassed, she lays her cheek on his shoulder, her heart pounding her chest so hard she's sure he can feel it against his own, as she admits for the first time something that she's certain Five already knew. Five was always too clever for his own good, and Vanya wasn't exactly subtle about the starry eyes she would give him every time he would take her by the hand after lessons and take her somewhere private where they could pretend for a few hours that Reginald didn't exist. "That's stupid, isn't it? I almost blew up the planet over a childhood crush."

"I think _that_ had less to do with me and more to do with unresolved daddy issues," Five admits, fondness plain in his voice. He keeps their pinkies locked even as their hands drop, his shifting to lace their fingers together again as he pulls her in closer. He wants to be a wall, a shield, anything he could do or be to protect Vanya from the outside world that had hurt her so much. Five turns to tuck his nose into her hair, inhaling deeply for a long second, eyes slipping shut as a wave of nostalgia hits him right in the gut. 

He doesn't bother wondering or anguishing over the 'childhood' aspect of her sentence. He'd already been welcomed back with more than he ever anticipated from the rest of his siblings. From Vanya, as ever, all he would ask was this. Her friendship, her companionship. Even as he feels her shake from the adrenaline of her admission, trembling like a leaf in the warm curve of his chest, Five wonders if she meant it at all. 

Pressing his forehead to her temple, he curls in on her, possessively, "Next time stick with the genuine article," He murmurs, his voice a low rumble in his chest, "No one ever really holds a candle to the real thing." 

Her pulse quickens as his arms tighten around her waist, and her breathing picks up slightly while she leans into him. That sounds as much like an invitation as anything ever has-- but Vanya's last two attempts at romance had crashed and burned in spectacular fashion, one significantly worse than the other. Old trepidation keeps her fear hovering a level above her desire, even though her heart is galloping in her chest. 

"Five," she _whimpers_ his name like a prayer, reverent in her mouth, cherished between her teeth, and she turns her face to hide it in the side of his neck. Fresh tears prick her eyes, but these ones are born of the joy of being encircled in his arms. 

A heavy, breaking sigh marks Five's final barrier collapsing. Leaning against the railing, Five's hand slips from hers to cradle her jaw in his palm. He lifts her face to him as he bends, closing the distance between them and pressing his lips to hers in an adoring kiss. There's no hunger, no repression or competition like the others. Five holds Vanya like she's a precious object, delicately, with reverence, as he kisses her hard enough to see stars. 

Five lingers in the familiar warmth of her breath. She feels like a furnace to him, but she's always run hot, no doubt the sheer power she holds within her confines. Her lips are soft, timid and shy, and he holds perfectly place, allowing her to savor as he did himself.

Over the years, Vanya had day dreamed about hers and Five's first kiss more times than she could ever hope to count. She'd imagined it would be on a boat during sunset, like on the Titanic, or at the train station when he hopped off that train he was writing letters to her on, surrounded by people who clapped for their reunion. She imagined it happening in the middle of a ruined battlefield where she came swiftly to his side after he singlehandedly fended off a dastardly enemy to save their family, and imagined it more mundane, happening in her own bedroom back home when he would come through her window to whisk her away to a new family. She'd even had more recent flights of whimsy where she imagined him showing up on the red carpet of the premiere of her book being turned into a biographical film, or coming to see her perform in concert and leaving mysterious flowers on her chair backstage, only to sweep her off her feet as soon as she left through the back door.

She'd always known Five fooled around with their brothers. It was impossible not to know, some of them were... loud. Perhaps foolishly, she'd always thought he was gay. She never actually imagined the two of them would get this chance. 

A cold breeze blows by them both, and no sooner does Five feel the slightest shiver of Vanya's body than the flash of them teleporting takes her by surprise. Her back hits the mattress and she gives a surprised little giggle, reaching up to beckon Five to crawl on top of her, reuniting their mouths with a soft, involuntary noise in her throat. 

Five is careful not to lean too much on her. Vanya is so much smaller than the others, and Five realizes with a punch to the stomach that she's smaller than _him_ , too. His stomach swelters as he kisses her with a fresh wave of adoration, placing skipping kisses across her mouth and jaw, across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. He lives to hear that giggle, a spike of euphoria digging in his throat as he hears it again, delicate and surprised, a giggle in the warm silence of the penthouse. 

He kicks his shoes off, fingers carding through her hair. Five feels like a child again, perhaps not for the first time that day, but certainly the most viscerally. The dark, the quiet, reminds him of sneaking out at night, of covering Vanya's mouth with his hand when he hears Mom walk a little too closely to the cabinets they were hiding in. The way their breath mingles reminds Five of those warm cupboards and nooks, where he'd always thought about touching her, or burying his fingers in her hair. It was always and only the fear of rejection that stopped him. The fear that they would lose those carefree moments that he would rather keep than risk losing, even if it wasn't ever what he really wanted.

Five's traces the line of Vanya's neck to her shoulder, until his hand settles on Vanya's waist, so small and delicate between his fingers, "Tell me if it's too much," Five murmurs when he can spare his lips from hers, which isn't very often, or for very long, "Too fast," He clarifies, even as his mouth dips down the curve of her neck.

"It's not," she says breathlessly, running her fingers into his hair and holding on with both hands. "You could never be too much." 

Her legs fall open around his hips and she realizes with a twinge of embarrassment that under her sweater and sweat pants, she's wearing a distinctly unsexy plain white underwear set she got out of a plastic bag containing four other identical sets. She's pretty sure, in fact, that the panties have a little pink bow right in the middle of the band, seeing as she's had to shop in petite sizes her whole life, and according to fashion manufacturers, if you're under 5'3 you might as well be a preteen. 

Had she known this was going to happen tonight... well, it's not like she actually owns any sexy lingerie, the kind she's sure Allison owns in spades. But she might at least have put on the plain black set, since black is sexy... she's overthinking this, and her thighs tremble around Five's hips. 

"Relax," Five breathes, a rumble against her skin. His hand disengages from her hand to fall to her thigh. It spreads, smoothing over the cotton of her sweats, pressing just enough onto her skin for his presence to be known, but not enough to bruise or even hurt. Five took care of Vanya with tender, exhaustive care. His mouth was gentle on her skin, even the graze of his teeth just enough to make her shiver, never a bite harder. He sucked bright pink marks into her throat, her shoulder, all while purring like a pleased cat above her. 

Five seems content to spend his time there, hand smoothing up and down her hips, pressing reassuring kisses across her throat and shoulder, then back up again to claim her mouth. With each pass, he leans in a little harder, lingers a little long. He can feel Vanya warming beneath him, and feel the trembling with each breath beginning to turn into deeper sighs. 

Calloused fingers find the hem of that thick sweater, dip beneath but never too far. Five watches Vanya through thick lashes, eyes dark with a hunger he feels from deep in his core, fingers itching to take care of her with the same care she'd always deserved, but never got, "Do you trust me?" Five asks, leaning back to look her in the eye. His nails tickle against the jutting curve of her hip, unable to help himself.

"Yes," she says. She doesn't even wait before saying it. Her pupils are blown wide in the dim light of the suite, taking him in with a warm animal hunger that she's only felt a couple times in her life. Her body feels too big for her skin, aching and begging to unfurl for him. 

For a moment she forgets that she's lived a third of a century, more than half of which was spent without five in her life. She forgets that she's an adult who is still deciding how best to move out of an apartment and shuffle all her utilities around, she forgets that she still has car payments and taxes and a job hunt on the horizon. For a moment, laying under Five, she's just an excited little girl again, hiding somewhere in the massive mansion with her brother, tucked into a nook to avoid being found by Pogo or their mom, feeling his breath on the back of her neck make her entire body clench up hot. For just a moment all of the tedium of adult life is stripped away and she's nothing but a trembling, oversensitive girl desperately in love with her foster brother, like no time at all has passed.

Vanya's sweatshirt is pulled so fast over of her head that it's hard to tell if Five had teleported it away or not. For the second time that day, Five is struck completely stupid by the genuine beauty outstretched before him. Pale, unmarred skin shone in the moonlight, only disrupted by the-- frankly adorable, albeit a little immature-- white bra. Five's hands find her waist, and he smiles as he takes her in, not letting her linger for long lest her anxiety begin to make her shake again.

"You're beautiful, Vanya," Five says without leaning in, his voice warm and full, love making it break on the last syllable of her name, cracking like a child. For once, Five didn't mind. He looks at her for a moment longer, adams apple bobbing in his throat as he clearly seems struck for what he wanted to do first. There's so much he wants to do, so much he wants to say or show-- but instead he leans over her again and covers Vanya's body with his own, mouth finding hers in another scorching kiss as his hand smoothes over her belly, fingers tracing the wire of her bra. He cups her breast through the thin fabric, thumb tracing where he can feel just the slightest perk of her nipple, rubbing until he feels it go hard and pert, then flicking over the delicate bud.

His mouth waters, and it seems to take a conscious effort for Five to hold back, one that makes him swallow heavily around the lump in his throat. "Vanya, I don't want to pressure you, or take things too fast," He mutters, his voice gone lower an active as hormones make his blood thick, head thicker. His fear of hurting her again, of this somehow not being everything she wanted, wins out over the lust making his pulse hammer in his veins. "Tell me what you want." He sounds desperate for it.

"Make love to me," she murmurs, her face and ears burning as she reaches for his belt buckle and unlatches it at the front of his shorts. As long as he doesn't think her underwear are stupid, then she has nothing left to feel self conscious about. She unbuttons his fly and then tugs his sweater vest off and over his head, un buttoning his shirt so it hangs open around his narrow frame. 

He looks very much the same as he did, the last time she ever saw him naked. It makes sense, since he's only a couple years older than that physically speaking, but the familiarity is extremely nostalgic. She runs her hands along his skinny belly and through the hair underneath his navel with a soft sigh of pleasure just for being able to touch him. She vividly remembers the day they were told they wouldn't be allowed to shower mutually anymore, something all eight of them used to do every day for years, up until their father caught Luther and Allison sharing a romantic rooftop picnic in the greenhouse. 

He'd pulled them all aside the next day to inform them that despite his best efforts to desensitize the children to the concept of one another's nakedness by enforcing co-ed locker rooms and bathing rituals, it seemed that _hormones_ (she remembers the vicious way he'd said the word, like a knife in his mouth) had gotten the best of them regardless, and that from that moment on, they would all be showering separately, forever. Luther and Allison had felt horrible for it, because those group showers had been the childrens' only source of consistent playtime every day. Sure, their showers were strictly only fifteen minutes long a day, but those were fifteen minutes they all looked forward to, when neither Reginald, Pogo nor their mother would bother them. Fifteen minutes where they could slide across the tiled room and throw bars of soap at one another and _play_. 

The nostalgia grips her by the chest as she takes him by the hips, and pulls him down those last few inches he'd been tentatively hovering so his growing bulge presses against her core, and she loops her ankles over the backs of his knees with a soft, desperate, "Please."

It's all he needs, and frankly, Five would have taken less than that. Pulling off his shirt and vest, he throws them off the edge of the bed so he can properly feel him against her, their skin making contact for the first time and absolutely shocking the air from his lungs. She's so soft beneath him, so warm and supple, with give where the others had none. Five makes quick work of her bra, the clasp in the back lasting hardly a second, one twist all it takes for Five to pop it open. He takes his time sliding the soft straps off of her arms, and he drags his tongue over his lips when he sees her for the first time.

Five descends onto her, pressing first a bruising kiss to her lips before he finds her breast with his mouth. He sucks at the skin, fingers kneading and plucking at the other, watching her nipples become hard under his touch. He wants Vanya soft, wants her whimpering. He wants Vanya to feel every ounce of care he pours into her, the way Five's teeth barely ghost over her most sensitive skin, just enough to pebble goosebumps up her arms and across her chest, but never enough to hurt. He grinds languidly against her sweats, remembering all at once that she's still wearing them at all. 

He leans back, lips leaving Vanya's breast shiny and cold for only a moment before his hand replaces his mouth, not daring to let her be for very long. His other hand pulls at her sweatpants, lifting them dutifully off of her legs to expose a pristine pair of white panties, the look of which makes Five make a noise in the back of his throat. It was carnal, a grunt of satisfaction, and just as soon as she was exposed, Five covers her again, with himself. 

Hand on her chest, Five's fingers continue to toy and tease, while his mouth peppers kisses across her hip. He delves deeper, spurred by the heavy scent of her, revealed after so long. Five's stomach growls audibly, and for once he's inclined to agree with it. His tongue traces the elastic running high on her inner thigh, spreading her legs with his unoccupied hand and gently fitting her leg over his shoulder. He doesn't dip beneath the fabric, not yet, intoxicated by exploring the skin so pale he could see the fine webbing of her capillaries beneath the skin, humming and pulsing with a power she'd only just barely learned how to contain.

Five ends it by licking a long stripe up her underwear, burying his nose in her and taking a heavy breath, intoxicated by everything about her as he licks another heavy, wet stripe against her core, tasting salt as his tongue dips forward to penetrate, the panties a barrier he was fine with keeping, for now.

"Oh-- oh--" she covers her face with both hands, every muscle in her body trembling outside of her control. Her thighs try to close around his ears shyly. Despite having two lovers in her lifetime, neither of them had actually taken the time to do this, and it's enough to make her want to curl up like a pillbug. The sensation is overwhelming, even through her underwear, and her hips can't seem to decide whether to buck up into his mouth or twitch away from the sensation that makes her stomach twist. "Five-- f-- you-- _oh_ \--"

Her tongue feels too heavy and clumsy in her mouth to get a whole sentence out, especially with her palms covering her entire face, only slightly parted around her nose and mouth so she can inhale roughly. Not being able to see Five is making the oversensitivity worse, somehow. Not being able to see what he's doing makes every little motion of his lips and tongue take her by surprise, but when she looks down at him and sees his brows furrowed over eyes closed in concentration, his nose pressed against the white cotton covering her mound so tightly that the fabric buckles, she decides that no actually _that's_ worse. The sensations are so intense she can barely take in a full lungful of air, and she covers her face again. 

Five drinks every utterance from Vanya's lips as if it were mana from Heaven. Encouraged by her delicate whimpers, the gentle, trembling way she holds him with her thighs, Five's hand traces the line of Vanya's arm and tugs it away from her face so he can lace their fingers together. She squeezes almost immediately, whether out of a misplaced need to offer reassurance or because she needed something to hold onto, Five allows it to happen, figuring she'll particularly need it for the next part. 

A finger crooks in Vanya's panties and pulls, and they come down as easily as her sweats had earlier, as if the very clothes from her body were attempting to help their union. Five is hit by again how perfect she is, pretty and pink everywhere, shivering and curling in equal measure. He licks his lips and huffs a quiet breath, "Vanya, you..." He whispers reverently, he seems unable to put words to it, himself, before he shakes his head to clear the fog that had completely taken every thought in his head.

Another shake of the head later and Five decides to do something with that energy. He repeats his motion, same as the last time-- One heavy lick across those already-glistening folds. He can taste her slick on his tongue, can feel the way his tongue slips so easily between her slit. Five doesn't waste time. Closing his eyes and opening his mouth, he begins to lick Vanya clean again, dutifully cleaning up the mess he'd made of his own sister, before they had even gotten started.

Vanya gives an undignified squeal when Five's mouth makes contact with her bare pussy, and her hand tightens in his with such strength it's like she wants to pull his fingers off. With her hand held captive in his she can only cover part of her face, and suddenly becoming aware of the fact that they're in a hotel and people might be able to hear her, she elects to cover her mouth. 

Her thighs close around his ears and her ankles hook together behind his head, her body folded up in a little pretzel of abject pleasure, her back arching and hips twitching up against his mouth. Her eyes roll back and she wails muffled against her hand, releasing Five's fingers when the pressure gets to be too uncomfortable on her own joints, in favor of grabbing him by the hair instead and holding him by the roots. 

It's unlike anything she's ever felt before. His tongue feels molten as it laps at her core, pressing against a place she's hardly taken the time to even explore, herself. She's only had two lovers in her lifetime (three, now, she thinks warmly with affection as if Five isn't currently taking her apart piece by piece) and the single time she'd slept with either of them had been under less than ideal circumstances. Having the privilege to take her time like this with Five is almost too much for her. 

As the world goes silent around them both, Five becomes wholly absorbed in his task at hand. Breathing wetly into her pretty cunt, Five's nose presses and nudges the hard nub of her clit as he foregoes direct attention to it at all. He can tell by the twitching in her core and the curling of her toes that any direct contact would be far too much, far too fast, and leave her thrashing before Five could really work his magic on her. So instead his tongue focuses on her slit, delving deep into her again, and again, awed by the way she opened for him so easily, fluttering muscles clutching at his tongue. 

One hand still trapped in Vanya's vice-like grip, Five's other hand raises to drape heavily over her hips. He presses down, urging her back onto the bed and flush with the mattress. It forces her legs to relax an iota, just enough for Five to pull away with a heavy gasp. Not one to be deterred, his head immediately turns to drag teeth and tongue across the delicate skin of her inner thigh, his chin glistening with her juices. He didn't even try to pull himself away or wipe himself clean, and even now he lavishes attention across her pale skin like a man possessed, dedicated to kissing every last available inch of her.

The hand on her stomach flattens as Five continues to hold her down, but he shimmies between her legs before they reluctantly loosen around him. Looking up at her through his lashes, Five pants as he looks up at her between her legs. He takes in the absolute marvel she'd become: chest raising and lowering, stomach twitching, and cunt dripping, all with an ethereal sheen of sweat. 

Five pulls his hand gently from hers, urges her legs apart until they fall against the mattress. "Still with me, Vanya?" He murmurs with a low voice, two fingers slipping between her folds to gently dip their tips inside of her, then back out, thumb beginning to flick over her clit at last.

"Barely--" Vanya gasps, her face flushed all the way down to her chest. Her body feels like it's full of bees under her skin, buzzing and vibrating from her core outwards. She arches her hips up eagerly. "You can-- put them in, Five. Please."

She reaches down to take him by the wrist and pulls his hand forward, breaching herself on his fingers without waiting for him to comply. Her eyes flutter shut and her head falls back with a sigh, her muscles flexing around Five's fingers hungrily. Vanya has never had a particularly active sex drive, but just the feeling of Five's fingers alone inside her are enough to make her feel like a fiend. Bracing her feet flat on the mattress she rocks her hips down to meet his touch, and with her free hand she reaches up to grope and squeeze her own breast, thumbing over the nipple and pressing her head back into the pillow. 

"Yes," she whispers it like a prayer as Five easily takes over, her hand leaving his wrist to hold his hand on her belly instead, threading their fingers together for a squeeze. 

Those fingers move inside of Vanya, curling up and in onto her and pressing flush with the rough walls of her pussy. Five works her open quickly and methodically, never pushing or thrusting too much or too hard at once, his strokes deep and lingering opposed to sharp and staccato. Any surprise Five might have had to Vanya taking such a leading hand in it completely melted away when she fell back into the pillows.

Five can't tear his eyes off of her. Wide eyes look up the line of her body to watch her delicate fingers pinch at her pebbled nipple, twisting and pulling it from her body in time with his fingers plunging deep into her core, then out again. They scissor her open, spreading her wide and holding her there before closing and fucking into her again, a wet sound filling the air as Five begins to milk the slick from her cunt. 

He leans back to watch her with a flushed face and heavy breaths, eyes dark with lust as a third finger joins the two, seating itself to his knuckle as his pace begins to quicken. He watches the hand on her breast hitch, her teeth catch on her lip, and he pulls up to lean over Vanya again before kissing her hard, his hand beginning to piston into her quickly. The sound of his hand slapping wetly into Vanya echoes through the room as Five swallows her moans with his lips, before disengaging, leaning down, and capturing the untouched nipple with his teeth, breath warm and fast.

She cums with a soft keen, her legs lifting up off the bed. Toes curled, thighs shaking and feet pointed delicately, her legs fold up and try to close on instinct, embarrassment at the noises she can hear herself making flooding her face with a fresh wave of warmth. Her back arches and her arms wrap around Five's shoulders, leaning into him as much as she can from her prone position. 

"Oh my godohmygod--" she gasps, her voice high pitched and tiny in her throat. She's no stranger to hand play, in fact it's the most common thing she's experienced, if she counts the handful of times she'd fumbled with herself over the years. She'd never been such an avid masturbator that she could justify the cost of a proper toy, especially when she could usually get the job done with her hand. But this sort of expert taking-apart that Five is capable of is new, and something she's still getting used to. 

Melting into a puddle on the blankets, her pussy throbbing in time with her heartbeat, she looks down at Five with soft, wet eyes, and cards both of her hands into his hair, blunt short nails scratching across his scalp, where his hair has gone damp with sweat. "Make love to me," she whispers, as if her thighs aren't still trembling with oversensitivity. "Please."

Looking at Vanya as if he's hypnotized, Five's eyes are wide, his hands on her reverent. He had let her ride out her orgasm by holding still, letting her clutch and twitch around him without moving lest he hurt her on accident, and now, with her dripping and loose around him, Five can't help but oblige her modest, gentle request. Nodding, Five drags his tongue one more time over the tight bud of her nipple before laving warm kisses up her chest, over the swell of both breasts, then up the slender curve of her throat.

Five pulls his fingers from her with ease, his cock twitching hungrily at the way she closes and twitches around the loss of his fingers. Rolling off of her, Five watches Vanya from the side of the bed as his fingers tug his belt free, then his fly. He looks at her like a passage of a textbook he needs to memorize, eyebrows creased as if he was trying to remember this moment, his sister spread beneath him like an angel in the snow.

Pants and underwear discarded on the floor, belt thrown somewhere down the hall, Five throws his socks to the side and crawls back onto the bed, covering Vanya's body with his own as he pulls her into another kiss, hands guiding her thighs around his hips. Leaning back, Five looks down the line of their bodies as he positions himself at her core, pressing forward with one slow, long stroke, his body draping over Vanya's for the second time. Five's mouth finds hers, and he presses another deep, open-mouthed kiss to her lips as he settles inside of her to the hilt.

She inhales sharply when she feels him fit against and into her, her legs immediately raising to hold him around the hips. Unlike the rest of their siblings, Five and Vanya are still the same size now that they were back before everything went to hell in a handbasket, so they're arguably the most perfectly designed to fit together. He doesn't have to stretch or reach like with the others who all tower over him a head or more, he can blanket her body with his like they were made for one another. 

"Five," She gasps, wrapping her arms around his neck and digging both of her hands into his hair. "That's-- that-- oh-- oh, wow--"

He feels so perfect in her arms, and to be completely naked with him, skin to skin-- it's nothing short of a holy experience. She feels the indescribable sensation as though this was the one thing she'd been missing all her life-- it's different than sex has been before. It feels somehow deeper and bigger, vast and incomprehensible. She feels love. 

"Move, you can move," she whispers, her eyes a bit damp and her voice a bit throaty. 

"Okay," Five mutters, and for a a fleeting moment his voice actually sounds unsure, insecure, like a boy's first time. Wobbly and tentative, Five's hips lean back, then press forward, as he begins a slow, languid pace that has him sheathing to the hilt every time. Her fingers in his hair send shockwaves down his back, her breath on his neck making his body twitch with unresolved shudders.

His body moves like sinew against Vanya's, smooth and easy. Face lifting to tuck into the crook of Vanya's neck, his breath collects there warmly, his own soft moans muffled into her skin and by his mouth placing open-mouthed kisses to her collarbone and shoulder and neck. 

Their bodies meet with a delicate clap of skin on skin, and Five's hand settles on her hip to help guide their movements, a warm presence across the smooth expanse of her thigh, a supportive warmth holding her to the bed to keep them flush together. 

"Vanya," Five whispers in her ear, her name an errant plea on his lips, a sigh as he drives higher into her, the hand holding her in place the only thing stopping her from lurching up the bed as his hips begin to strike deeper with heavier swings, driven to feel her around him, "Fuck, Vanya--" Pressing his forehead to her shoulder, Five closes his eyes tightly as he pants openly against her skin, engulfed in her, driven to seek her warmth.

"Oh my-- oh-- _oh_ \--" she chants softly, a quiet noise fucked out of her every time Five's hips make contact with hers. She feels him fill her to the brim with every stroke, his cock exactly as long as her channel is deep, like two pieces of a puzzle interlocking-- made to go together. Everything about Five feels like it was made for her. 

It's a selfish thought. She knows Five loved the rest of their siblings at some point or another. It wasn't exactly a secret among the siblings-- and she was the odd one out, even then. It's selfish of her to think of Five's as hers when the rest of their family deserves to have pieces of him too-- 

She hears him say her name, and it scatters her thoughts. She realizes she was doing the same thing she'd always done-- making herself smaller to make room for everyone else, without any regard to her own feelings. The others aren't here right now, Five is here because he loves her. He brought her to this beautiful place and is making love to her because he wants to be here. The thought brings tears to her eyes and her moans turn to sobs, loud enough that it makes Five push up onto his hands to look down at her in concern. 

"It's okay," she says, reaching up to hold onto his shoulders, her legs flexing around his hips as tears leak from her eyes and make trails down her cheeks. "I'm crying because I'm happy."

The pain is evident in Five's eyes, regret, remorse, frustration. The hand on her hip tightens only slightly, fingers pulling her close as his thrusts slow, but only long enough to Five to lean over Vanya. He begins to pepper kisses across her cheeks and nose, over her forehead and against her temples. Anywhere he can touch, Five presses his lips against, from the warm hollow of Vanya's jaw or the cold shell of her ear.

Finally, he begins to thrust in earnest again, driven forward by the legs flexing drawing him in again, striking that same smoldering fire Five had barely stifled before. "Stay with me, Vanya," He whispers as he presses his forehead against hers. He doesn't dare look away or break eye contact. 

A smooth, soft hand finds Vanya's jaw, and he holds her gaze by force if he has to. The eye contact goes straight to Five's head, making his chest swell with warmth, that fire encompassing his entire body as the past day finally seems to bear down on him. He needs Vanya's eyes on him in that moment, and he gets it.

Warm, soft brown eyes meet crisp, sharp green, and Five's hand drags up Vanya's thigh. He grasps the lily soft skin, leaves red fingerprints in his wake. With a moan of Vanya's name that breaks up an octave, Five's hand urges her legs further apart, her hips raising further off of the bed and allowing Five to delve deeper and deeper into her.

She cums again, just from the grind of his pelvic bone against her clit and the pressure of his length inside her-- but this time it's with much less fanfare. Externally, that is. She gives a pained little squeak of overstimulated pleasure, her thighs squeezing and shaking around Five's hips and her toes curling as she rocks up into him, but from the inside it feels as though a bomb has gone off. 

Every nerve ending in her body lights up like she's been set ablaze, and embarrassingly she can feel herself release around Five's cock, fluid sluicing out of her with a wet noise that splatters across the bedspread. She can't even take the time to feel bad for the poor people who will come to use this room later without knowing someone had been here before them and they'll be able to _smell_ her on the covers. It's not like housekeeping will know to come dress down the room after all-- but all ability to form rational thoughts like that are fucked clear out of her head. 

"Five-- FIVE--" her voice is a rough, high-pitched little squeal, and her nails leave shallow red marks along his shoulders and back as she claws at him through her climax. 

Five pulls her up and continues to fuck her through it. Bending in half, his lips find hers as he places lingering kiss after lingering kiss to her. He swallows her squealing, the kittenish way her entire body curls in on herself. Five is driven by instinct to finish, her muscles bearing down and clenching, milking him dry like instinct demanded they do-- and Five only has a few more thrusts in him in that environment before he, too, goes tight and lunges forward.

Tucking his head against her shoulder, his hands hold Vanya by the hips as he drives himself into her to the hilt, pinning her in place with fingers that are white-knuckled from the effort, "Vanya, _Vanya_ \--" he chants gruffly, voice like gravel in his throat before his hips stutter once, twice, and then-- with one final, hard snap-- Five spills inside of Vanya without even thinking about whether or not he should, the ramifications lost on him, his sense lost somewhere amongst the dripping walls bearing down on him and the shuddering girl twitching in his arms. 

Five groans tightly as he presses his forehead to her shoulder, entire body tightening as his orgasm hits, then fades, leaving him twitching and panting heavy, warm stripes against Vanya's throat.

Vanya is just as fucked out for several long moments as her body slowly unravels from the tight little pill she'd rolled herself into, her limbs turning into jelly one by one on the covers. She stares unseeingly up at the ceiling, bliss making every inch of skin and muscle in her body feel like static. Five is warm on top of her, a blanket of sweaty, adoring _boy_ , and it hits her all over again how badly she missed him. 

Strung out, exhausted and oversensitive, Vanya gives a pitiful little sob-laugh, fresh tears spilling from her eyes as she raises her arms to wind around his neck again. She turns her face to hide in his shoulder as her sobs turn more genuine, relief overcoming grief as she wraps him up in her embrace. 

"Five-- I love you, I love you--" she chants in a hoarse whisper.

His heart swells in his chest as Five's head comes down from orbit, just in time to hear Vanya chanting his name like her favorite prayer, whispering his praise like he was a messiah. Smiling to himself, he holds her close to his body, keeping himself draped across the entire length of her, not able or willing to excise himself from the clutches of her core, the tangle of her limbs. He wants to stay there, overwhelmed by her, even as he begins to slowly push himself up and away.

Five's mouth traces his path from her shoulder, down her arm, as his hips roll and he withdraws from Vanya with a wet pop that makes his breath catch in his throat. His mouth continues between her breasts and down her belly, kissing the small red marks where his hands had dug in too tightly, the gentle nips on her inner thigh where his teeth had been overzealous. 

Pressing his forehead to her thigh reverently, Five looks up Vanya's body, the heavy scent of her cum flooding his nose and making his brain foggy once more, presented with the mess they had both made. 

"Christ, Vanya," He mutters reverently before leaning back over her on shaking arms and kissing her. He pulls away only when they've both gone breathless and pink-faced again, shakingly gasping for air, "I love you, too," Five admits with a shaking, fluttering little laugh, fingers tucking an errant tuft of hair behind her ear.

The admission makes her whimper, and she rolls up onto her side to curl into him, suddenly all too deprived from his warmth. She reaches blindly behind her to grope at the edge of the covers and untuck them from the bed, pulling them over their bodies sideways rather than expend the effort to crawl under them properly. 

"Five, can you--" Vanya's voice is a croak as she tries to encourage Five to help her with the blanket, but when she glances over at the boy still draped over her, she sees his eyes are lightly shut and he's completely fallen asleep against her shoulder, deep and even. With a gentle smile and some maneuvering, she manages to get them covered enough, curling back into Five's arms and joining him before she has a chance to second guess herself. This was never anything she could have imagined would actually happening, despite the fact that she's had this daydream for most of her life, and she's more than happy to just go to sleep in his embrace. 

The morning comes too fast, to both guest and room alike. Beautiful as the view had been at 2 in the morning when the world was quiet, the morning Sun shone brightly on the pair, massive, open windows allowing sunshine to pour into the room as soon as the sun made its debut for the day, swathing first Five, then Vanya in its ethereal glow.

Five doesn't wake up, having gotten used to a bright, unrestricted Sun for decades. The hotel and city begins to come alive around them. In the hall, a cleaning cart's supply jangles brightly, unaware of the guests in the suite so near to them. Horns, sirens, bells, the usual symphony of the city begin in low, resonating succession, Five blissfully unaware to the chorus, or the reminder that neither of them were actually allowed to be here.

Vanya awakens not because of the noise of the city, which had become the peaceful white noise that acted as a backdrop to her daily life in New York, but rather because of old habits drilled into her that she never quite outgrew. She sits up in the bed, her memory of the last night foggy, but she feels Five stir beside her and it all comes back into focus all at once. 

Her entire body tenses up as she hears the housekeeping cart come down the hall, terrified for a moment that they're going to be found out, but it passes them by after several harrowing seconds. Vanya exhales and leans over to shake Five, the call much too close for comfort. 

"Five," she hisses. "We've got to get back to the house."

Five's face screws up in a concerted frown, and an eye cracks open for only a second, a low, rumbling groan in his throat making him turn to face her, away from the window. "Check out isn't until 11am," He mutters groggily, an arm reaching over to curl around her waist. He pulls her temptingly towards him, back into the warm cocoon of blankets and mess they'd slept in.

"Five, we never checked _in_ ," she hisses, a little louder, panic starting to grip her by the chest. "If we get caught--"

Another low noise rumbles from him, like a groan of displeasure at the anxiety tickling her voice and interrupting their morning, "They're not going to check a room that wasn't booked last night, Vanya," He says patiently, cracking his eyes open toward her like a tired jungle cat. "Come on," the arm at her waist pulls. "Take a breath. No one's going to look in here. Even if it is booked for tonight, check in isn't until 3. What time is it now?"

She glances at the clock on the wall. "Oh, it's... seven. That's not for a while-- still, I don't want to risk oversleeping. I don't know if you can get arrested for breaking into a hotel room, and you haven't even existed according to the law for more than fifteen years, so they'd be bound to have questions, and--"

He closes his eyes and takes a long breath, turning to face her properly, watching her through his lashes, "You're really not going to sleep in?" he asks, sounding endeared by her concern instead of frustrated, an unabashedly fond smile on his lips.

"I can't," she says, tugging her knees up to hug them to her chest. "I don't want to risk getting caught. I don't want you to get caught. I don't want anyone to try taking you away, nobody's going to listen if you say you're an adult, they won't get it, they won't believe you."

A note of sorrow is etched into his heart with her words, and it's those that make him pull himself to his knees, both hands raising to Vanya's shoulders. His thumbs rub circles into her bare skin. He has to stop himself from marveling all over again at how soft she was. He watches her for a long moment, before ducking his head in a small nod. 

"Okay. Okay, we can go," He agrees, leaning forward to kiss her on the temple. Leaning away, Five tilts her chin up to look at him again, pushing her arms and knees away from her chest, opening her to him, "At least let me run you a bath first."

"A _bath?"_ She repeats, honestly intrigued by the offer. It's not like they don't have the time... they at least have until three, and that's assuming someone even booked this place. As long as they don't fall asleep they can't accidentally pass the check-in time, and she for one has a nice patina of dried sweat and cum on her body, so the prospect of putting all her clothes back on isn't an amazing one... "Okay," she nods with a soft, shy smile. "We can take a bath."

Five smiles back at Vanya, leaning forward to pull her close to him in another body-flush hug. There's the tugging behind her navel of his powers, and after not even a moment they've both arrived in the bathroom, Five standing, holding Vanya only slightly off the ground. Picking her up with surprisingly strong arms, he deposits her on the sink before her feet can touch the tile, and he holds a finger up in front of her, "Don't move." He instructs.

Diligently-- and still fully nude-- five pads across the cold tile floor to the extravagant, massive tub, inspecting the small collection of bottles at the corner as the water runs, his hand occasionally dipping under the stream to check the temperature. Finally pleased, he puts the stopper in the tub and tears open a bottle with his teeth, dumping the oil contents inside of the bath, as well as a small packet of what looked like bath salts. The room is filled with the sharp smell of Eucalyptus and jasmine, sandalwood and mint. 

Holding a finger up at Vanya across the room, he doesn't even spare a word as he crosses the bathroom to the door, where there's a small control panel for what looks like... something.

A few buttons later, the bright fluorescent glow of the bathrooms is reduced to just the gentle backlighting around the trim of the cabinets and bath tub, dipping them into a scene lit by the soft blue light of morning, and the steam beginning to fill the room from the water filling the tub. Five waits a second at the panel, then nods, finally returning to Vanya and holding his hand out to her.

"Careful," He murmurs, helping her off of the counter where he'd placed her. When her feet touch the ground, she finds not the shock of cold tile, but a warm, soothing hum, as if the bathroom had been paved with warm stones.

"This is a lot," she tells him with a smile that crinkles her eyes, and she follows him to the tub. She steps in first, the extravagant marble lined with no-slip pads on the bottom so she can comfortably slide down into the water, followed by Five. The basin is large enough that she can easily drape herself against his side, the water foaming and churning around them with the jets whirlpooling gently in a clockwise direction. 

Laying her head against his shoulder and her arm across his chest, she easily could fall asleep again like this, without even trying. so she talks to fill the space, to keep her mind alert. 

"Do you like my hair?" she asks shyly, dragging patterns through the soap on Five's chest. "I cut it myself, it probably shows."

Five's arm raises from Vanya's hip to pull affectionately through a stubborn piece of hair cut slightly too high to properly tuck behind her ear. It made her hair drape in front of her eyes, like she was hiding something. A sad if appropriate choice for her. 

And yet he still smiles, thumb grazing across her cheekbone allowing them soak in the silence for just a moment. His eyes never stay in one place on her face for long, taking her in from the hair on her head to the soapy line across one of her shoulders, "It does, but it works for you," He reassures, leaning in to kiss her again, mouth lingering for too long to be innocuous. 

He manages to pull himself away, but only barely. Reaching over the bath tub, he turns the water of once the warm, perfumed steam is curling warmly in their face, and only then does he urge Vanya to settle between his legs, her back pressed flush against his chest. Ducking his head, Five drags his lips up the soft skin of her shoulder, while his arms slip around her waist. For now, he seems content to hold her. 

"I'm glad you stayed the night. Wasn't sure if you would, honestly," He mutters, squeezing her around the waist.

"Where could I have gone?" she can't help but laugh, tipping her head back on Five's shoulder so she can look up at him. "Through the door and down the stairs? There's nothing for me in this city that would be better than laying in bed with you."

Relaxing in his embrace, she loops her hand over his where it's wrapped around her waist, and turns her head to rub her nose shyly against the side of his neck as she chews on her next word. "So, is this... are we... something? Anything? Do you want that?"

Fucked five times in one day, it's somehow fitting that it would be Vanya out of all of them who seeks some kind of legitimacy. Time seems to thankfully pause at Vanya's question, and it gives Five a second to think. _Was_ this anything? Of course it was something. He knew that without hesitation, or fear. _What_ was the important question. What _was_ he to them? What were they to _him?_ The thoughts buzzed in his head like a hive of angry hornets, whipped into a frenzy by only a few tentative words.

Five looks Vanya in the eye seriously for about a minute longer than what would have been comfortable, with an impossible to read expression that he usually only got when thinking rather hard. 

"I want it," He says finally, after a long minute, finally pulling Vanya flush to his chest again, his chin settling on top of her hair. Tilting his head down, Five presses a kiss to her hair, murmuring, "I'll think of a better word for it later."

That's already more than she could have hoped for, and her heart beats like a galloping horse in her chest as she sinks into his embrace in the warm, sweet-smelling bath. She didn't know it was possible for a body to _ache_ with joy, but if anyone could uplift her to that place, it would be Five. 

"I'm glad," she whispers, lifting her hand out of the water to reach back and thread it through his hair. Just as she tips her head back to give him a kiss, an embarrassingly loud squeak sounds out of the bath water, and she feels her face heat up, her hand falling back into the water. "Oh-- I guess I'm hungry. You don't think we could sneak a continental breakfast if we went downstairs, do you? They can't possibly know we didn't technically check in..." 

Even as Vanya talks, Five's stomach joins the chorus in the bath tub, and he frowns, looking down at their stomachs under the thin layer of bubbles. His brows knit together, almost offended of their audacity at ruining the moment. "Places like this, they don't have a continental breakfast," Five mutters thoughtfully, leaning across the tub to press a remote on the edge.

A TV turns on, hidden completely within the mirror across from them. 6 am. When had they left? Midnight? 1? Sleep pulls at his brain as he blissfully remembers the warm bed a scant few feet away. Some mental math is done, the television a quiet drone in the background. Humming under his breath, Five nods, apparently making a decision, "Wait here," He mutters, leaning forward to kiss Vanya sweetly on the lips before excising himself from her, a motion that almost caused him physical pain.

Thankful for the warm tiles, at least, Five tugs one of the warm, fluffy robes from the hook on the back of the door. He ties it around his waist tightly. "Stay here, soak. Don't do anything," Five says, leaning over the rim of the tub, just enough to kiss Vanya delicately on the lips once more, "I'll be back before you notice I'm gone." And he vanished.

Blinking from crisp dawn to dark night, Five has to take a second to recover himself as he arrives in the Hargreeves residence again, though the sky has once again reverted to the dark overcast of night. Poking his head around the corner into the main hall, Five squints at the clock: 1am. Down the hall, he hears Vanya yelp, as she had earlier when Five had woken her up from her stupor.

Sneaking down the hallway, Five arrives just as Vanya collapses into his past self's arms, and with a blistering whoosh of energy, they're gone. 

He can't help the smug little grin that comes over his smirk at his own competency. Five allows himself to swagger, just a little, as he makes his way into the kitchen. He screws the lid on the jar of peanut butter, licks the knife clean and deposits it in the sink. Five even wipes the counter clean of the scuff where Vanya had made a mess in her distress.

Five reappears at 6 am in the hotel room not 30 seconds after he'd left, holding a plate of ants on a log, smiling coyly at Vanya as he presents them with a flourish, other hand loosening the belt on his robe, "Didn't think these should go to waste," He says, winking.  
  
"Is that... did I make those?" she takes the plate from him so he can undress properly and slip back into the water beside her. "It's been hours, how are these not gross?"

She picks up one of the celery sticks, pleased and equally surprised to find it's still stiff and crunchy, not at all like the floppy room-temperature waterlogged mess she would have expected they would become by now, hours and hours after she made them.

"I jumped back a couple of hours," Five says with a nonchalant shrug, slipping into the water only after he hangs his robe back up. Groaning low under his breath, he takes the plate back from her hands to balance it on the small towel table next to them, taking one of the pieces of celery for himself and biting into it with a crunch, groaning low under his breath as he practically devours it.

She regards him with a warm smile as he tucks into his favorite snack for what she has to assume is the first time in fifty years with all the joy that nostalgia can bring a person, and she bites into her own log with the warm thought in the back of her mind that she might get to start making this snack nightly again, but without any of the bitter grief that used to come with the task. Now she'll actually get to share it _with_ him. 


	6. Epilogue

An evening in a lover's embrace, a morning luxuriating in a warm bath: Five was having a hard time thinking of the last time he'd had this much uninterrupted good happen to him. Sure, he was sore from yesterday's _thorough_ work out, bone-deep tired in a way he wasn't sure he could feel outside of a war. But now, walking arm-in-arm with Vanya through the busy city street, Five found he didn't even mind all the aches and pains. 

Each one was a different story, each one a fond memory of the day and night before. Glancing down at Vanya, tucked tightly into his side, Five has to bite back an obnoxiously sentimental smile.

Five had persuaded Vanya back to bed with little more than a growled request and some insistent fingers, and they had ultimately spent the morning after their bath under the covers: Until the housekeeping cart in the room next door made them jump to their feet and get dressed, Five teleporting them both out the front door before anyone could be the wiser.

Now two miles away, it was hard not to feel the giddy thrill of their illicit affair. The Hargreeves residence was only a scant few blocks away, but Five wondered if he even needed to bother his nearness to the woman beside him. Surely his siblings wouldn't think anything of it, considering the day they'd had. He wonders if, like Vanya, some of them want more. 

There's a ghost of a voice in his ear telling him he'd give it, if they did.

Five opens the door to their estate for Vanya, holding it as he offers as far as a little bow at the waist, smiling when she huffs and whaps his arm for the formality, even in jest. He takes pride in the way her cheeks flush pink.

Their stomachs still growling-- perhaps moreso thanks to their round two-- Five leads Vanya to the kitchen, already planning his sandwich. He's drawn short, however, as he sees the living room coffee table already filled with each and every last one of his siblings, all sleepily gathered over a late brunch like they expected him to find him here.

"Hey guys," Klaus greets him first, his hair pulled up into a bun that looks more like a mop than hair, and he raises a martini glass of coffee wearily. "Wondered where you were."

Allison twists in her seat to look back at the pair as they wander into the living room just as she's cleaning a bit of grease from under her fingernails. "We couldn't find you or Vanya."

"Did you go somewhere?" Luther asks, his brows furrowed as he processes the direction in which they'd come from. 

"This house still feels weird, can't blame them for wanting to get out," Diego says, his mouth full of toast. "Get something to eat." 

Vanya darts forward eagerly to claim a couple slices for herself, nabbing some eggs and bacon for herself as she sits on the floor beside the coffee table rather than unseat any of her siblings. She's frankly ravenous, after not eating since dinner last night, and going two rounds with the man now slinking around the living room like a panther on two legs. 

Five watches the way Vanya seems to make herself so comfortable, so fast. He frowns at the array of his siblings, all spread out like the perfect audience made to catch Five in the act. 

_Had they **planned** this?_

Immediately, Five's brain goes into overdrive. Each interaction flowing seamlessly, one to another, never picking up after too much time off. Looking each of his siblings in the face now, Five has to feel something at awe for their plan. To anticipate his movements so well, to choreograph their gestures and actions to such a perfect clarity. Maybe they hadn't planned for Five and Vanya to go somewhere, but surely to spend the night..

"Okay," Five says, tucking his hands into his pockets, standing at the head of the table. Most of his siblings had gone back to eating, unbothered by his brooding scowl, "That's really good. I'll admit. Really good. I don't even want to know how long you've been practicing that." He smiles a bit softly at the lot of them, "Thank you, guys. All of you. For yesterday. It feels..." Frowning, Five looks to his feet, hand clenching in his pocket.

Clearing his throat, he looks up at his family again, heart warm, "It feels really nice to be back with you. Safe and.... at home," He smiles at all of them, looking at them fondly.

Silence falls over the room for a moment, the rest of his siblings all looking at one another and then back to him, feeling as if there's some kind of joke being pulled that Five is the only one in on. 

"Practicing what?" Luther speaks up first, setting down the cup of milk he'd been sipping.

"What are you talking about?" Allison adds.

Five's smile falters a little bit, his eyebrows twitching at Luther and Allison's question."Ha _ha,_ " Five says, without humor, looking from the pair to Klaus, to Diego. "Yesterday," He clarifies. Vaguely.

Luther immediately starts flushing and he looks back down at his breakfast without a word. Diego's head snaps up to look at Luther, and then over at Klaus, who's grinning like a cat despite not really knowing what's going on. 

"Wait," Diego blurts, sitting forward, and with all the tact he usually carries he asks, "You fucked Klaus yesterday too?"

"Klaus?" Allison's brows raise as she looks from Klaus, to Luther, then up to five as realization dawns on her. "You slept with Klaus, Diego, Luther _and_ me in the same day?"

"You slept with Allison!" Klaus laughs in delight. "Oh my _god_ , dude--"

"Wait, wait," Vanya lets out a giddy laugh. "Wait, you guys too?"

"FIVE! You _DOG_ ," Klaus kicks his way out of the chair he'd been lounging in to sling an arm around his shoulders. "Are you saying you fucked every single one of us in the _same day?_ Hungry boy!"

Weighed down by Klaus' weight, Five's knees buckle, and he teleports himself out from under his arm with an astonished look, frantically tugging at the hem of his blazer. Breathlessly, he looks at his siblings, "Are you guys... telling me... NONE of that was planned?" He asks, only a little wild-eyed.

"I didn't plan anything," Luther admits shyly. 

"Five!" Allison can't help but laugh at the absurdity. "All of us? In one day?"

"Figures," Diego says, not the least bit jealous, thank you very much. "If I went a hundred years without sex, it'd be the first thing I did when I got back too." 

"You're some kind of fiend," Klaus says, stepping over the back of the sofa to drop down between Allison and Luther, slinging his arms around either of their shoulders. "Next sex cult's on _you_ , big guy."

"Does that mean you're dating _all of us?"_ Vanya asks, embarrassed and joyful in equal measure. It seems so much like before, when all of her siblings were involved-- but this time she's not excluded. 

"What a great question," Allison says, turning her eyes towards Five with a grin that's only a little smug. 

"Ooh, can Five be my boyfriend next?" Klaus teases, leaning forward and untangling from Luther and Allison. 

Astonishment rings clear as day on Five's face, usually so careful and devoid of any emotion. Now he stares at his family, aghast and agape, registering the implications of the coincidences of yesterday. 

His face goes flat, "I'm going to bed," He says, and vanishes, a warp of blue in his wake.

Five leaves them only long enough for him to make it to his room and catch his own reflection in the mirror. He immediately feels cooler in his bedroom, alone and withdrawn from his family. They would take that answer in stride, he knew they would. They were probably still laughing about his dramatic exit as he agonized, but still, Five stares at himself for long that he strictly needs to, head buzzing.

Ultimately, did he really need to think that hard? Putting his forehead against the mirror, Five fights the smile that raises from the pleasant tingle of memories from last night as he remembers them, shaking his head to clear it. He already knew how this was going to end. 

Another blue rift opens and Five steps from it not two minutes later, looking seriously at this family. Hands planted firmly on his hips, Five pulls his face into a frown, brows creased seriously. He stares them down for a minute before he clears his throat again. 

"Fine. Yes, I'm dating all of you," Five says. He scowls as he says it, but it doesn't meet his eyes. One last bastion of retaining whatever scant dignity he had left.

The mood that comes over the living room that morning is one of absolute giddiness, as Five is yanked unceremoniously down into a hug between Luther and Klaus, which Allison promptly piles on top of, joined by Vanya a moment later, and then finally Diego taking the top of the pile-- just in time for the ancient, stupid old couch Reginald had gotten from god knows where to creak and then give up the ghost, the legs snapping out from under it and dumping the family sprawled and laughing on the floor. 

It's such a shift from the last few weeks they'd all shared together, all the stress and pain and misery of their last misadventures gone, replaced with the kind of open affection that none of them had ever been allowed to show to one another in this house. Truly, when was the last time any of them had experienced anything resembling _joy_ in these hallowed halls?

It'll take some time to scrub out the old funk, move out old furniture and update this place with a new feeling, but Five gets the feeling that between all six of them working not just together but together, it'll be the most pleasant experience he's ever had. 


End file.
